I found the first ripe macintosh apple from our tree on the ground today. It wasn’t even bruised from falling. I’ll cut it up after dinner and dip it in honey for dessert. Jon and I already had the egg, hard-boiled, for breakfast.
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It’s funny how when there is just one or a couple of something it becomes precious in a way that a bushel can’t be.
It’s so true. Otherwise I’d be making apple sauce. I might yet.