Better than "Organic"

[pen_grunt]

I'm not crazy-picky when it comes to my food, but organic food rocks. It's even better when you can say, "I planted the tree that those apples came from." Better still, I know that the only thing fertilizing the apple trees is deer poop. The only insect protection is the local bird, bat and spider population. I climbed those trees. I loved those trees...I stepped on a huge snake at the base of one of those trees once, hence why (despite a lack of snake-fear) I always startle briefly when I see a snake on the ground.


Apple season is always full of memories for me. When I was a kid, I would start eating the tiny apples in August--and would, of course, get sick off of the so-tart-they're-almost-inedible baby apples. Then came September. One day I would come home from school, and I would smell it. As I was walking down the long driveway, the scent of baking apples would reach me and I would start to stroll--the happiest kid in the world. That was the wonderful day that my Grandparents would be waiting in the kitchen--peeling, cooking, canning, etc. Grandma and mom always hummed while they were canning and chatted happily in the downtimes, and Grandpa made it his duty to figure out the most efficient way to do everything--even if it ended up taking longer. It's actually odd that so many memories of these particular Grandparents are tied directly with food production--but group canning is always such a "family" activity. They arrived early in the morning (but after I went to school) and stayed for supper. By the time I was home from school, there was already much applesauce, but I still got to help with the last few batches. I'm not sure why my mom never, EVER told us that my Grandparents were coming that day (seriously, it was a surprise EVERY year), but I LOVED coming home to the smell of baking apples. It's one of the friendliest nostalgic smells of my childhood.

Then I would help my mom pick up fallen late-season apples so the bugs wouldn't over-winter in the rotten apples and crop up again in the spring. The late-season apples always had more sugar in them, so they were perfect for baked apples with no fancy additives save for cinnamon--or apple crisp. The air was always so cool, and we always stayed outside so late, filling up wheelbarrow after wheelbarrow of rotted/dropped sticky-sweet apples.

We picked apples on Sunday. I forgot how nice it is to be out in the warm fall sunshine (with a touch of Autumnal cool), gathering apples in the bottom of your shirt and carrying them back to the wheelbarrow, running like a little kid again to get from tree to tree--always excited because you spotted another perfect apple on top. My sister brought home this sort of apple baklava today (after canning apples with my mom...which I was rather upset about missing). Layer rolls filled with fresh baked apple slices, honey and walnuts with a touch of cinnamon...simply heavenly.

Anyway, that's a whole mess of rambling with really no direction. It's just memories, so forgive it for what it is. I miss Grandma and Grandpa the most in the mid/late summer and fall, I think.


Whew. Enough about that most likely boring to most people topic. I'm off to find an online recipe for good apple crisp.

Comments

[llythefaerye.livejournal.com]

***hugs***

I never got to join you; in fact, I don't think I knew y'all canned apples, but I can see it.

Next year, we need to set up dates to can peaches w/my ma and apples with yours.

[pointedthings.livejournal.com]

You love me because I make you yummy things with apples.