Apple – Marilyn R. Gardner

For some, Mondays are a new start — kids go back to school, the counter is wiped clean, there is space and time.

For others, Mondays are perhaps like mine. They are a reminder of my disparate existence, a reminder that even as I cocoon myself in a home with warmth and white lights there is a world out there that can’t be ignored. A world where I smell pot at 6:45 in the morning as I come out of the subway. A world where Mary warns me yet again to “Be careful up there!” A world where I can smell the alcohol from 10 feet away on the breath of someone I regularly communicate with.

And that’s how this Monday began. Except for an apple. A bright, red, beautiful apple.

A man who couldn’t have been older than 25 dressed in business clothes was seated next to a woman who had all her household goods in a shopping cart. Only her face and eyes peeked out from a coat that was too big for her. The man was white and the woman was black. The contrast between privilege and poverty was stark. And then he reached into his bag and brought out an apple and he gave it to her. There was no drama. I was the only one sitting across from them and I doubt anyone saw the act except me. As they made eye contact, she smiled her gratitude through dark brown eyes and they exchanged greetings. A conversation started that was over almost as soon as it began – but at least it started.

It was so small but it felt so big.

I know there are those who would be cynical about this. A young, white man with everything takes pity on a black woman with nothing. But it didn’t feel like that. It seemed redemptive for both, certainly for me.

Much is written on privilege and recognizing privilege. In this, the act of giving an apple, it felt like a young man who knows his own privilege wanted to reach over that division into the life of someone who would be easy to ignore, easy to dismiss. It seemed thoughtful and without guile.

So an apple and a Monday help me to reach across the Sunday – Monday division believing that redemption happens in small ways all around me.

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Stacy’s recipe this Monday combines my all-time favorite liqueur with one of my all-time favorite foods. This combo is called Stacy’s Bailey’s Irish Cream Muffins. (Actually, I added the ‘Stacy’s’ to the title.) I cannot wait to try these! May the Irish among us rejoice!

Fall in New England is a season to live for. The humidity of August is replaced by warm days and crisp nights, usually accompanied by brilliant blue skies. There is a sense of anticipation as the many universities begin and students from all over the world come to the area to study. The anticipation is also a recognition that the beautiful days will not last forever, and inevitably winter will come.

Fall foliage is famous in this part of the country, but along with the foliage are other things that are equally beautiful and appealing. Pumpkins, apples, mums, cider, and more are all part of the season that is fall. This weekend we experienced all of this through the quintessential (I love that word!) activity of apple picking.

It doesn’t get better than apple picking in New England. The ingredients for success are a working farm with many varieties of apples, a ride on bails of hay in a tractor (aka hay ride), kids (it doesn’t matter the age – they’ll still be excited and fight), cider apple donuts and cold milk, cider, chili-dogs, and all the apples your stomach can handle during the process. Once you get home, you shine the apples until you can see light reflect off them, and bake apple crisp, crumble, bread, sauce, scones, pie, or whatever you want. I feel like Pioneer Woman – only a city pioneer woman and so proud.

DSCN2126 - Copy — Pumpkins, gourds, mums & hay created a brilliant display and photo op

DSCN2127 — Can you imagine this in your front yard? Only if you lived on a farm!

DSCN2114 - Copy — Never put up a sign like this when you know a Gardner is going to be coming. It's an open invitation....

DSCN2155 - Copy — This is where people weren't supposed to climb....

The farm we picked is located in Amesbury, Massachusetts, just a few miles from the New Hampshire border. Called Cider Hill Farm, it boasts hundreds of apple and peach trees;a country store with home made baked goods, cider donuts and jams, jellies and syrups; a large number of chickens, and plenty of room for all.

Enjoy the trip through pictures and then go online and book your plane or bus tickets and come to experience pumpkins,picking, eating and baking apples, mums and more.

Note from Blogger: No wonder I usually stick to only one or two pictures! Putting in pictures with clever captions is far more difficult than writing!