It is time to celebrate fall.
(I am convincing myself that I am celebrating fall, and not mourning summer. I have never struggled with this so much.)
And if one is to celebrate fall, one must pick apples.
There must be tractor rides and apple slushies.
There must be baskets and overgrown orchard rows.
There must be picking and sticky sweetness running down your hands.
There must be a chill in the air, but plenty of sunshine.
There must be 20 pounds of Honey Crisp apples.
There must be eating apples whenever one's five-year-old heart desires to.
The cool evenings must be spent turning those 20 pounds of apples into crisps, turnovers, and pies, and just eating them fresh, plain or with caramel.
Because if one is celebrating fall (and not mourning the end of summer), that is how it must be done.