
I hope you never forget the sound of the leaves breaking beneath your feet. The thrill of seeing a tree lit with ruby red bulbs. The piercing crunch of the first bite. The sticky, sweet juice at the crease of your lips. And the hum of the flies feasting on the leftovers. I hope you never forget the magic of sideways sun beating through the columns. The weight of too many to hold. The dreams of what they might become. Apple pie. Applesauce. Apple Muffins. Or maybe just a snack on the way home. Read more












