Apples, apples everywhere!

That, in a few words, describes my day. A friend of ours, and Bruce's sensei, has several (4-5?) apple trees in her back yard. She has no interest in doing anything with the apples; so, for the last few years, she's invited us over to pick however many we care to take home. I am a domestic throwback, so we happily take her up on it, and come home with several grocery sacks full.

These are not fancy orchard apples-- they are small, and more often than not have spots that need to be trimmed out. They likely would not be the gourmet's first choice for snacking. But they are very tasty, and with a little processing effort make fine pies, crisps, butter and sauce.

We began doing that today. When we were done the (literal!) fruits of our labors included frozen sliced apples in ziploc bags, several pint jars of apple butter-- and an apple pie, baked to reward my patient husband, who voluntarily spent time helping to slice and trim.

I always think of my grandmother when I do this work. It was in her tiny kitchen that I learned to can and preserve. My mother, God bless her, had no interest in such things-- probably as a result of having to do too much of it as a child! For me, however, it was a treat. The gift of time spent with Gram, and a sort of domestic adventure. I even still work with some of her tools: the dented aluminum large-mouthed funnel I use for filling jars was hers, as well as the conical strainer on it's three wobbly legs, with the oddly-shaped wooden pestle to push the pulp through.

Gram had used these things since she herself was a newlywed, more than 80 years ago. I inherited them when she was nearly 90, when the arthritis in her arms made it hard for her to use them. Whenever I get them out I have a real sense of her smiling, sturdy, practical presence. She took satisfaction in providing for her family in this way, and in remembering her own family tree. I can still hear her hooting laughter as she shared stories of long-past successes and mishaps with the wide-eyed little girl in the pixie haircut at her elbow.

No doubt some eager antiquer would love to have these things hung on a wall or displayed on a shelf somewhere. And I'm sure there are much fancier modern alternatives out there, that I would likely covet if I knew about them (that strainer and pestle take a bit of effort, and my arms will be stiff tomorrow). As it is, however, I find I am content to do the work, and in the process to remember the woman who first shared it with me.

Later: You know, as I read this over, I noticed all sorts of theological gifts and detours I could have taken, at various points. God is good that way! But I'm tired, and I'm done with writing. So feel free to ruminate on the many moments of God's grace that show themselves here, as I gladly did while tidying up, and add comments if you care to do so. In the meantime the kitchen is clean, and I'm getting ready for bed-- and looking forward to going to work tomorrow, to get some rest!