The Apple Gift

On days like today, when Jon isn’t home for lunch, I sit outside on the back porch to eat.

The wind was blowing so strong it knocked two of my plants, in clay pots, off the windowsill.  I found myself watching the wind wondering what it would blow over next, more than reading.  If there are any apples I thought as I watched the wind whip through the branches of the big old apple tree, they’re sure to fall today.

And then, as if it read my thoughts a bright red apple flew from the very top of the tree and bounced once on the still green grass before landing.

The apple felt like a gift.

I had just taken the last bite of my veggie burger.  Thanking the tree,  I left the porch and picked up the apple.  I sat down on the grass to eat it, then thought better of it.  I was too close to the birch tree which is probably as old as the apple tree and is always shedding branches even after a professional pruning a couple of years ago.

The apple was a delicious contradiction.

It was juicy, soft yet crunch, and both tart and sweet at the same time. The best kind of McIntosh.    I ate around the bruise savoring every bite.

When I was done, I found an ant eaten apple for Lulu and gave Fanny my bruised core.  The donkeys seemed as grateful for their apples as I was.

 

 

3 thoughts on “The Apple Gift

  1. You and your apples falling from the sky into your lap! Rub it in, why dontcha. Not that I resent the fact that an April snow and freeze and wind took all my Apple blossoms away. Not all all. Hmmph.

  2. That should be “not at all.” Stupid spell check. (You may be able to tell I’m not having a great day. I’m gonna go play with the puppy and fix that.)

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