Home Grown Apples

As the season turns toward winter, our apple tree offers us a gift of bright red, shiny apples. Pity that the birds and insects get to them many times before we do. The best apples are at the top of the tree. As the saying goes, the girls who are harder to get are the nicer ones just like the best apples are at the top of the tree. The rotten ones on the ground are quick and easy. A funny saying, but it's definitely true of apples. Anyway, my kids went up the tree and shook the branches. Our dogs waited expectantly at the bottom to catch some treats. They love apples. The kids used sticks and rocks to knock the apples off. We collected them into a basket and then the next day, I cut them up and made an apple pie filling in the crockpot. Of course, the amount of good flesh I got out of them wasn't huge, but it was fun.

Here's a pic of our apples - they come in a great variety of shapes and sizes, like us human beings.

In the Fall anthology that came out last year, I wrote a story about a rich lady who owned a gorgeous home with apple trees. Because she didn't know what to do with all the apples, she hired Mr. Craigson, a handsome handyman, to cut them down. A romance blossoms between the unlikely pair.

Here's a short excerpt from my story:

The best antidote was to spend the rest of the week indoors—not her favorite seeing she pottered around her garden to keep sane—but she had no other solution. He couldn’t know how much she liked him, since he thought of her as a married woman. If he found out her secret, he might seduce her and then take all her money. And what would she do then? She hadn’t worked a day of her life. The inheritance from her father had kept her going all her adult years.

Sucking in a breath for strength, she went to the kitchen to begin a baking day. If she busied herself with flour, eggs and butter, maybe she wouldn’t keep on wanting to look out the window. Problem with her stylish modern house—every room had plenty of large windows, most giving a beautiful view of the back. She tried to bury her head in the recipe book and the bowl, but kept on looking up to see what Mr. Craigson was doing. He hadn’t gone home. In fact, he kept very busy cutting trees and using those biceps and triceps and all the other ceps. Halfway through the morning, he removed his shirt, and she stared through the window, mesmerized by the play of shadows defining the ripples of his upper torso.

“Oh!” Tears came to her eyes as he turned and stared right at her. “I’m such an idiot,” she mumbled to herself.

Cheeks throbbing, she spooned the cupcake mix into the holders and placed them in the oven. A knock sounded on her kitchen door.

“Come in,” she chimed, not expecting Mr. Craigson to be there so fast.

“Smells amazing.” He stood in the doorway, his bare chest clearly visible for her errant eyes. Sweat beaded his bronzed skin, and a brush of hairs added texture to the glorious sight. She swallowed and choked. He was by her side in a moment and hit her back.

Scent of male, sweat, hard work, trees and grass seared through her. She coughed several times then composed herself.

“Who are you baking for?” He looked at her, humor in his eyes.

“Um…myself.”

He took a good perusal of her figure. “Really?”

“Well, I just bake for fun. And for my husband. When he comes back from his business trips.”

“And when will that be?”

She couldn’t look at him but instead turned to the sink full of dishes to busy her hands.

“Um…I’m not sure. Next month, I think.” How come all her usual stories about her “husband’s” business trips went flying out of her mind? She even kept a diary of his supposed flight schedules so she didn’t make any faux pas with her friends or anyone else who asked her. For the life of her, she couldn’t remember any of the dates.

The anthology is still on sale on Amazon for only $0.99 until the middle of May. Here's the link:  Amazon - Autumn's Kiss