I connect with Apples. And I use a capital letter on Apples because, strangely enough, they have been important in my life.
As a little girl, I found an gnarled, neglected Apple tree beside a dirt back road at the end of our street. In the spring, I would climb the tree and find a crotch where I could sit and read a book. The pale pink blossoms were so delicare and smelled so sweet. I sniffed them, I stared at their color, I gently rubbed the soft petals.
Then as I was growing up, I learned to make Apple pies, which became very sought after by my family. There were good and I was proud of myself.
I also have a very vague, dim memory of Apple butter being made over an open fire in West Virginia. At that time I was only 2 or 3. That was when there was hog butchering and many families were there, including me, my Mom and Dad.
Then when I got my own home it had two Apple trees in the back yard. They were never pruned or taken care of but they produced
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Apples each fall. And each fall I would pick red Apples from the ground, peel, then and make Apple pies for my boys. The Apples were misshapend, had mars on them, but I got enough out of them for pies.
In Pennsylvania, Apples in the fall fell to the ground and mixed with leaves for a unique aroma of autumn, hot days, cool nights, and crisp air. The scent is unique.
Biting into a crisp, red Apple is such a pleasure. I love the sound of the crunch, the spray of Apple juice around my lips, and the sweetness of the inside, and the firmness of the skin.
Green Apple essence oil was sold in the local drug store. I bought it and smeared it everywhere, including on my body. The aroma was like a drug. Eventually I bought DKNY Delicious perfume, which was a weak apple essence.
I moved overseas to Australia. Now mangoes were prevalent. But on one of my visits back to America, my niece, Brooke and I went shopping for papier mache Apples. We bought some and I took them back to Australia. I put them in a basket for display and they were so realistic, once a visitor tried to bite one. Now my furniture is in storage, including the Apples. Of all of the furniture and memorabilia I have collected over the years, my most valuable is that basket of Apples.
And when I finally sort through all my belongings, those Apples will survive the cull and will be, once again, in my living room.