Apples

I just finished a bowl of freshly made apple sauce. Made yesterday, in fact. In my kitchen. By my lovely bride.
On Wednesday, Megan went out with the girls, and a bunch of other ladies, and picked apples. She brought home a bushel. Yum. She also brought home a gallon of apple cide, a jar of apple butter, and a jar of honey, with the comb in it.
A good time was had by all. While picking, you can sample an apple from the tree[1]. If you like it, pick some. If you don’t… toss the apple aside, and move along. This, of course, was a delight to the girls. I thought it was just a cool experience.
Hopefully next year we’ll get to all go. In the mean time… we’ve got apples to eat!

[1]not gourds, though. Don’t touch the gourds, or a grumpy old man will yell at you. Even if your children (or any of the children in your group) didn’t pick the gourd… they just found it on the ground and were playing with it. Leave it alone, and let the old bitter man rest easy.