It's the Weather

When I was little, we used to go apple picking at Bell's Apple Orchard in northern Illinois. There's a picture here. It seemed as far away as forever then. The reward for the trip was bushels of apples, home-made cinnamon-sugared cider donuts, and maple sugar candy. Once I had children, it was given that Bell's would be the destination of their apple-picking odysseys.

It's gone now. Has been gone for years. Surrendered to the north-suburban housing development boom. Where the giant apple used to tower are rows and rows of houses.

It had been so hot this late summer/early fall that I had forgotten about apples and apple picking.

The last few days, however, have been real fall. The kind of days that make you think that not only would turning on the oven be bearable, it might be a damn good idea. One of the staples of post-apple-picking fall was apple pie.

I have strong opinions about baking apples; Jonathans are the best. Since Jonathans were usually ripe by late September, it's too late to lament the lack of apple-picking this year. Rather than wallow in the wasteland of nostalgia, it occurred to me that with a trip to the grocery store, I could get the smell of baking apples back. I admit to some chagrin that the only Jonathan apples they had were pre-packed and roughly the size of a golf ball. Spurred on by thoughts of cinnamon I can, however, be brave and daring. We'll see what "Jonagolds" can do.

I have my motivation and reward for finishing the Red Scarf ready to go.

I'll weave in the ends while it bakes.

Maybe it's not too late to go apple-picking this year. Maybe the Jonathans ripen later in Indiana.