Normally, when I look across the road from our house, I see acre after acre of beautiful apple trees highlighted by the hills in the distance.
When I drove home tonight, the wall of boxes started about a quarter or mile from our house and continued just past our field of vision. It is literally boxes as far as the eye can see.
And although our fabulous view has temporarily turned into a fortress of plywood containers, I don’t mind. It is fun to see all the activity over in the orchard. Summer apples make me think of my grandma who was born and raised in the Ozarks. She had a summer apple tree in her yard and my mom would take us to grandma’s when the apples were ripe to pilfer enough to make a pie. Grandma would have something delicious like fried chicken and blueberry pie for us to eat – and nobody made chicken like her chicken. It was legendary.
The apples were a yellowy-green and tart. They weren’t big by any standard, but good gracious, they could make a tasty pie.
So here is to summer apples, fried chicken and grandmas. May they be a part of your best summer memories.
She Who Misses Her Grandma
