Today, this last Sunday in August, Tootie Mae and I are home alone. The little blue house at the end of the road is pleasantly cool inside, naturally. The air conditioners and ceiling fans are not humming.
My lovable little foot long "weenie" dog is sprawled out on the loveseat watching me. Her head and one front paw are resting on the remainder of a rawhide bone. Toot knows far better how to relax than I do.
When I leave this computer chair, a bushel of apples awaits paring and more, a peck, or so, of huge perfectly formed bell and banana peppers need my attention. Today the harvest was good and I am thankful.
Paul used the extension ladder to reach the apples that grow on the old tree. I worried that the branches were too spindly to support the little picker, but aside of one fat gem falling on his noggin and a toss of his straw hat, all went well.
Some might think the tree is useless. The pie that I baked last week could change their minds about that. The filling in my flaky crust was delicious, the apples and spice mix superb.
That's why Paul Baby volunteered to strip the tree of its shiny ornamentation.
My mother did not use the apples from the tree that brought forth this off-shoot to my world. The large old apple that I grew up with was always a bearer of apples of poor quality, small, insect and worm ridden and unappetizing. Rot and the wind took it. This baby was born from its roots.
My brother seemed to think the apples were fine. He stopped by my little tree during the fall of the year before his death in 2000 and stepped back into the past with me.
The TLC that included proper pruning and spraying paid off.
The pigeon shed that it leaned against was removed. The little tree needed full sun. The tree took in moisture and further built character. Each year, since, the tart old fashioned fruit has improved.
The nocturnal fruit pickers will get small to no pickings at the homestead, tonight or the rest of this season.
The apple of my eye cleaned the object of my affection-the tree that lives on.
Our eldest daughter, Starla McHugh was home for a brief stay this past weekend. Her son, Michael Risk celebrated his 25th birthday. Lindsay and Mathew Terry and daughters hosted a great cookout in her brother's honor at their spacious new home in Brownsburg.
Paul and I visited Michaels beautiful home and that of our ex son-in law, Tim McHugh.
After a wonderful time, we came home to the little blue house to tell Tootie Mae all about it.
I haven't told the gang yet, but she wants to visit next time. They had better gather-up their shoes and socks and hide the cats.
My family will be together again in the winter. Paul is already thinking of purchasing a warm sweater and snow shoes for Tootie Mae to wear. I suggested a toboggan and a fanny pack.
Paul and I send our heartfelt condolence to the family of Wayne Leo Bryan. Mr. Bryan was a friend. We will remember him well. Wayne was a man of good character.
He was a hard worker and a caring soul. He loved God, his family and cherished friendships.
The cheerful giver went the extra mile for everyone, including those less fortunate, health wise and otherwise.
I am proud to say we knew you, Mr. Bryan. Rest in peace
Well friends, its time to move those apples closer to the work station.
Thanks for the comments that I received last week. I gain a facebook friend or two, as well.
I can be reached at 446-4852 or by email at firstname.lastname@example.org.