A story of apples
In the fall we bought three boxes of delicious apples (Macintosh, Salish and Ambrosia) straight from our favourite growers at The Fruit Thing (that’s clear, descriptive naming). The apples have been enjoyed fresh, turned into juice and apple sauce, made into muffins and apple crisp. And this week, the last 20 apples were starting to sag.
We chopped them up to stew them with cinnamon.
What a delicious smell.
And all of a sudden fruit that was no longer acceptable to the children has become a delectable treat.
When it seems I’ve run up to the end of my ability to make things “go,” I can breathe deeply, and pay attention for a pathway that doesn’t require pushing.
The End.
P.S. It only makes me want to make marmalade now, but I don’t eat sugar so making delicious foods with sugar and having them in the house seems like a bad idea. Because if I make marmalade bread is an obvious next step. Unless you can promise me that you’ll come over to eat lots of marmalade sandwiches…
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