Today the weather is crisp and cool. Just like one would expect it to be during this time of year. I love the fall for several things, the pumpkins are ready and it seems like every garden around has a whole plethora of them, the big piles of leaves, bright orange and deep red with yellow as an accent. One of my favorite things about fall is baked apples. I know not everyone likes them like I do but there are a lot of memories that come to mind when the aroma of sweet apples, in a pot on the stove, fills the air.
When we were little we’d have to get up very early to do all of our chores. In the winter time, those mornings seemed like they’d never end, Being out in the bitter cold, breaking ice and unrolling bales of hay or dumping five gallon buckets of cake. Mama knew our pain because she was out their helping too. So every morning she’d get up an hour earlier than the rest of us. She’d cook a hearty breakfast with sausage and eggs and fluffy pancakes. On really special days she’d bake apples to go along with breakfast. Either just plain baked apples, which was enough for us, we loved them! Or, she would put the baked apples between two slices of bread and make the yummiest (and warmest!) sandwich in the 5 state region.
Thanksgiving was another special time that the smell of baked apples would fill our house. Mama is known for her one of a kind pie baking skills. She would make deep dish apple pie and sprinkle cinnamon and sugar on the lightly brown top. I loved baking with Mama and sometimes she’d let me make the designs on the top of the crusts and she'd let me pinch the edges or press them with a fork. Then she'd encourage me and say that the pies looked fancy. I’m sure she realized the importance of presentation, but she let me do my silly designs anyway. She knew that a smiley face, initials, or heart on the top were just signs of a little girl with a longing to be creative, and her pies tasted just as good. Mmmm I can almost taste them now.
Crisp air and baked apples and the little things that Mama would do, just another great memory from life in the country.