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Sep. 27th, 2009
Today was simply an awesome day. Were I hyperbolic, I might even say epic.
Jacquelyn and I got a nice lazy morning, picked up Ethan from a sleepover, picked up groceries, then went apple picking at a local orchard. I took this picture of Ethan and thought it looked like an album cover, so I made it one.
Jacquelyn took this one:
It started raining just as we were finishing up, which was fantastic. I have been loving the rain and hail we've gotten the past couple days.
We came home and Jacquelyn made New England Boiled Dinner, apple crisp, and applesauce. God, I love fresh apples. I loved picking apples. More so, I loved walking in the orchard. I had an apple tree in my yard when I lived in Hartsville, Indiana when I was in second through fourth grade. I had forgotten that sweet, pungent smell of rotting apples squashed on the ground around the trees. I remember mowing the lawn, making applesause with the blades, my feet slipping in the apple mush, and bees scattering as the mower approached.
It felt so good, divine even, to eat food that I know, only hours before, had been growing on a tree. We are so disconnected from where our food comes from. I picked apples right off the tree and ate them. There is something magical about eating something when it still has the pulse of life in it. Processed food may sustain the body, but the soul needs more nourishment than that.
Jacquelyn and I got a nice lazy morning, picked up Ethan from a sleepover, picked up groceries, then went apple picking at a local orchard. I took this picture of Ethan and thought it looked like an album cover, so I made it one.
Jacquelyn took this one:
It started raining just as we were finishing up, which was fantastic. I have been loving the rain and hail we've gotten the past couple days.
We came home and Jacquelyn made New England Boiled Dinner, apple crisp, and applesauce. God, I love fresh apples. I loved picking apples. More so, I loved walking in the orchard. I had an apple tree in my yard when I lived in Hartsville, Indiana when I was in second through fourth grade. I had forgotten that sweet, pungent smell of rotting apples squashed on the ground around the trees. I remember mowing the lawn, making applesause with the blades, my feet slipping in the apple mush, and bees scattering as the mower approached.
It felt so good, divine even, to eat food that I know, only hours before, had been growing on a tree. We are so disconnected from where our food comes from. I picked apples right off the tree and ate them. There is something magical about eating something when it still has the pulse of life in it. Processed food may sustain the body, but the soul needs more nourishment than that.