Where oh where can the apples be?
It is the middle of the northern hemisphere winter.
The time of death.
The time of life hidden.
Yet when I look at these mature apple trees, smiles of hope well up inside me.
My imagination sees apple blossoms;
Smells apple blossoms;
Tastes apples off the tree;
Tastes apple pies;
Tastes apfelcheuchli;
And having had my senses gratified, I sleep peacefully.
Please share your apple thoughts and memories.
nice place to be
‘girl brought in from the farm to cook’ I like that. It reminds me of what I see around me. The apple trees grow naturally and everyone who works in a home kitchen knows every way to cook with them to make them exceptionally tasteful even in the worst of seasons. Thank you.
We were in a decrepit West Glacier Montana restaurant only because a river guide recommended it. We ate the best apple pie ever, the product of a girl brought in from the farm to cook.
sitting high up in an apple tree, munching on an apple, and a quiet world below
Thank you–walking uphill and happy.
I totally agree with your moving feelings. Hope you are fine, regards Mitza