It's apple season in Sebastopol and I feel like we're swimming in a sea of Gravensteins this week. The trees in the orchard on the property are filled with bright red balls and the ground is polka dotted with red, green and yellow splotches, like a live Pollock piece (but with the splatters only, not the smears...).
I love reaching up and plucking an apple from a tree. The feeling of it quietly popping off the branch is so satisfying that I want to stand there and pluck again and again.
In the afternoon the sun-scorched hill smells like apples baking in the kitchen. Simply wonderful. And in the night, lying in my tent, every few minutes lets out a loud THUNK as another apple plops to the ground. Abundance.
In the kitchen we are baking: apple crisp, apple tart, apple crumble. If only we could live on apples as our staple, we'd never go hungry this autumn.
Speaking of autumn, as I walked through the kitchen earlier this week while one of our deserts was cooking, I smelled the upcoming season for the first time. A scent of fall and I suddenly imagined crisp weather, warm sweaters and cozy fires. And I realized, I'm ready!
-Melanie
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