The Apple of My Eye
Fall in the Northwest means a fresh crop of apples. After suffering through the final month of summer with a pitiful offering of the 'bottom of the barrel' scrapings from last season's apples, I get giddy with excitement. I check the store each day--turning the corner into the produce section holding my breath in anticipation. A week ago, I was fooled by a nice display and a fancy sign: Fresh Apples. I took them at their word and brought home a bag of apples only to find that I had been duped into helping them get rid of the old inventory. They were mealy and mushy. FRESH WHAT!
But today was the day! Shayla got her braces off (she can't stop running her tongue over her teeth!) and she wanted an apple to celebrate. We turned the corner into the produce section and I could have cried. Mounds of beautiful, fresh-off-the-tree apples! Our favorite: HONEY CRISP. Better than candy, I promise.