When I think of Autumn I think of two things.
Leaves and apples.
I am drawn to the different colors that I see being painted across the trees and landscape. I have vivid memories of white birch trees in the New England states, their aged and peeling bark shooting up to the sky, while orange tinged yellow leaves hung on to branches or playfully danced across the back country road while I hung out in the back of our family station wagon driving home from a trip to Maine.
I remember the colors sweeping the hillsides and mountains in the distance, like giant bouquets of yellow, red and green.
I remember pressing leaves between wax paper as a child. The redder the better!
I remember years later, pressing leaves with my children. Sigh.
Then I remember the crisp, clean scent of apples.
The smell of a big batch of apples cooking down for applesauce.
My mom’s rosy applesauce.
I’d help her make applesauce. Somewhere I have her handwritten recipe, even though I don’t really need it. It is one of those recipes that is a memory ingrained. I can smell a good, fresh, apple and I can remember making it. And, also want some. 🙂
Especially, if it is Fall.
I’m the only one who eats applesauce in the house anymore. So, I don’t need to make that much.
I had a few apples that I had left from a trip to the grocery store. Not too many, but just enough.
Cooked them up today. Made a batch.
Ah, what a sweet smell…..and a rosy sight.