Tuesday, November 07, 2006


Fall is in the air, the trees are showing their full color, and golden leaves flutter gently to the ground. The sidewalk ressembles a crayon leaf rubbing, with outlines of brown stamped on the gray surface. As the temperatures drop, my thoughts turn to memories of apple picking in the orchards of Chicago. The kids sitting high on Ray's shoulders, grabbing for the dangling bright red apples, and biting into the shiny fruit, sweet juice running down their cheeks. We picked bushels and bushels, coming home to bake a counterful of apple pies.

Sunday was apple pie day. Safeway apples replaced fresh picked ones, but the aroma of baking pie, and the sizzling sound of bubbling juices running onto the hot oven surface tantalize my senses. 40 apples later, 6 pies of all sizes stood proudly on the counter. We always try hard to resist cutting into a warm pie, knowing that the juices will run out and form a huge messy puddle, but resistance is futile, and as usual, we end up devouring half a pie in one sitting. Today, I picked a beautiful crusted one to take to Ma and Pa. Gently placing it on the floor of the front seat, I drove over there. At one intersection, I made my way through the green light when suddenly a police car on the side street to my right starts up his siren and he races through 3 lanes to make a right turn in front of me. I brake.......Heidi, on the front seat, falls to the floor, clearly startled, plopped right on top of my pie. Protected only by a zip lock bag, my lovely pie sports a huge middle crater and mashed apples. Beautiful no longer, but hopefully still delicious.


At 1:04 AM , Blogger Craig R said...

Wow, sounds like you have a wonderful family. Your family seems so loving and caring. I never had that as a child, and reading your posts made me feel very sentimental.

At 1:37 AM , Blogger talkingchin said...

Thank you, I'm glad it makes you happy


Post a Comment

Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]

<< Home