walking home from a late summer's night visit with my dear neighbor meagan. sharing our stresses. the sun soaked deep into the day and as i passed the little apple tree at the studio, i walked into the scent of warm and sweet, not yet rotten, apples. the scent of apples boiling on the stovetop when i was a child. my grandmother always made applesauce, sweetened with honey. i'd help her cut them and grind them through the strange press that smoothed the boiled apples into sauce. my grandmother also loved to bake apples. she would often have a baked apple for dinner. the scent of apples and crickets and a full moon. it brings the carefree days close. tonight the air is just warm enough to make it heavy in a soft and comforting way. and my parents continue the applesause tradition. they brought me this jar last weekend. like a little jar of childhood.
and thank you lisa for the perfect photo of it.
this glass jar is pretty- we have similar in Norway. i love them! i really don`t know anymore how many of those i own!
ReplyDeletebeatiful discribed Annette. as always : )
It's wonderful how smells can take us back in time. What beautiful memories of your grandmother. I love it here when the rotten apples make the air smell so sweet and earthy.
ReplyDeleteyou write so beautifully. i absolutely love the idea of a jar of childhood...
ReplyDeletexo sandra