Week 7--Everyday Things

On the Apple:

The trees hang heavy with the harvest moon fruit, the immigrant from Kazakhstan, the obsession of a man with a pot-hat. The fall air carries their smell but adds a bit of cold to cut the sweetness. They are sunset-red, baby-cheek pink, and there is that one outlier the color of spring’s first shoots. They make sauce perfect for babies and cider perfect for cold nights or broken hearts. Applejack is 66 proof. Every elementary-aged kid has had one packed with a peanut butter sandwich in a paper bag. You can cover them with caramel or candy or you can toss them in water, put your hands behind your back and “bob” for them as I did at every one of my birthday parties until I turned 12. They are easy to steal from trees, from carts, from bowls and from grocery story bins. Even my two-year old can steal an apple. Whether you’ve obtained them honestly or not, you can crisp, pie, cider, or sauce them. You can roast them over a campfire or in the oven. You can press them, cider them, and juice them. And they taste good any time of day.

The apple is common—like babies, like love, like full-mooned nights. Like blue birds and wild geese and irises. They belong on the list of best things—the things that make us get up in the morning.