With the changes in climate, ensues a transformation of the self. As the chlorophyllic leaves of summer proliferate into gatherings of vibrant burgundy and cherry reds, gold and rustic yellows, and carroty and ginger oranges, the soul cannot help but to crave the mild sense of urgency the blustering wind begets. Ah, fall.
Our senses turn keen:
We smell the autumn woods, the pumpkin spice or sprig of cinnamon in our coffee.
We see the effervescent foliage as it slowly emerges and lines each and every road.
We feel the brisk wind and the gentle chill that will soon immobilize us come winter.
We hear the jubilant shouts of children and the rustle of leaves during afternoon recess.
We taste the harvest and the apples…mmm, apples.
I don’t know about you, but I find apples and their byproducts to satiate just about any craving possible. Not only are apples a delicious commodity naked, oh no friends, that’s just the very beginning, but think of candy apples, and caramel apples. How the sweetly hardened sugars form like molten lava over the curved body of the apple. Imagine apple butter spread, apple crisp, apple pie, apple cider doughnuts, and, yes, apple cider—hot or cold. Perhaps my nostalgic fondness for industrious machinery increases my desire for these tasty delights. I mean, have you ever seen a traditional cider press at work? I have.
Sigh.
I think I have been misplaced; I am designed to have lived during the ’20s, ‘30s, and ‘40s. Craftsmanship. Good, honest work. Literary explosion. Expatriates. Whiskey. Speakeasies. The Charleston. War. Economic Boom. The Great Depression. Fedoras. The perfect balance of the great American paradox.
And, it’s all based on apples. Yeah. How do you like them apples?
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