Apples to Apples

Today, we went apple picking! As is the usual in St. Louis (or at least my adventures here), it rained this week. However, I woke up this morning to sunshine -- which also means I woke after sunrise! -- and thanked God for apple weather.

We drove down I-64 East, which can take me all the way home to the 'burg. (It's Homecoming, so I had W'burg in my mind a lot today.) It also took us to an orchard/tourist farm. We rode a wagon out to the trees.

Some of my favorite memories growing up come from fruit picking adventures with my family. While holidays and other formal family occasions brought about stress, I don't remember fruit adventures being that way, although that could be the fault of my memory. The parts I do remember include long car rides out to the mountains, bumpy roads, boxes full of apples, climbing trees to reach the top ones, coming home muddy and sticky with the trunk of our minivan weighed down with the expectation of apple pie and applesauce and fresh apples for weeks to come. And of course the joy of being outside in the mountains, in the air, in the trees, under the open blue sky.

Today, I missed the mountains, but the apples tasted fresh and real. My friends looked for the "perfect" apple, something difficult to find at the orchard, but it lengthened our venture, since we can't afford or use boxes of apples. The trees were small but the air was fresh and the sky was open. The only thing I really missed was the mountains.