David’s dad went up to see his sister in northern Arizona last weekend and came home with boxes of apples and jugs of apple juice. He shared with us.
David and I were thrilled because the juice is fabulicious, and also because a surplus of apples at our house means apple pies for days. Assuming, of course, I can ever get my kitchen clean enough to find a pie plate or two.
Mila was thrilled because the apples are small, just the right size for her little hands. When she’s not busy throwing them (we’re still learning the difference between an “appo” and a “bah”) she’s wandering the house with one in each hand, munching happily on both, and setting them down when she gets distracted.
Which is why there are little vignettes like this all over my house today:
Apples on the floor.
Apples snuggled into afghans.
Looks like my fall decorating is already taken care of.