If Fifth Grade accepted 41 year olds, I'd fit right it.

I love Fall.  It's a beautiful time of year.  The weather is ideal.  Temperatures are nice, the grass doesn't grow as fast so there is less mowing.  The snow hasn't started to fly yet so there's no shoveling.  The leaves are just changing and haven't begun to drop from the trees so there is no raking.  Perhaps I love Fall because I'm lazy.

I think NOT.

I've been working on getting the family to try new things.  Fall brought the opportunity for us to go apple picking.  My inner-farmer was ALL over this.  We could go and pick apples in the changing Fall sunlight.  Sunlight that makes us all look prettier.  The wind could whisper through the trees while the honeybees buzzed sweet songs of encouragement in our ears.  I could wear a bonnet and an apron and carry a bushel basket I had woven earlier in the summer.  We should TOTALLY go apple picking!

The apple picking was great.  It poured down rain.  There was lightning flashing all around us while we wielded picking sticks high into the trees.  In all honesty, the rain added an extra level of "adventure."    The trees are 130 year old heirloom apple trees.  Not sure what kind of apples they are but we figured we needed 5 bags of them.  5 bags.

So we picked and picked and picked.

We came home with a shitload of apples.


Well, it's been 5 days since we picked apples I decided it was time to do something with them before they all began to rot on my counter.

So I made applesauce.  How clever.

This is 2 bags worth of apples.  First I peeled the apples.

I peeled and peeled and peeled.  Now my inner-homesteader was totally excited about the outcome of my peeling.  My fictious chickens are going to love this special apple peel treat.  I am sure they will all scurry into the coop and lay dozens upon dozens of eggs for me.  As a thank you for my generous offering of heirloom apple peels.  They really do love me so.

Step 3 requires quartering and coring.  And quartering and coring.  And quartering and coring.  Again, Henney, Penney, Lenney, Jenney, Benney, and Zenney (my fictitious chickens)  will love the results of Step 3.  But oh girls, you won't get all of the cores for some must go into my compost pile.  Not fictitious by the way.

Finally, some sugar.  A little more sugar.  A pinch of salt.  Some water.  How about just a tad more sugar?  And several "glug glugs" of Applejack and we are off.  Apples boiling, breaking down, making the house smell nice.

I DID IT!  I made applesauce.  It looks pretty.  It smells great.  The kids are going to LOVE it.

Well, it turns out Ladycakes is "kind of picky about applesauce.  You know it's not bad but it's not the best applesauce I've ever had."  WTF?  Q and Elvis have decided they are "too full" after 2 pieces of cinnamon toast to even try it.  I thought kids were supposed to be STARVING after school?

Well, there is a happy ending.  A silver lining.  A reason for spending  2 1/2 hours of our day working on a task.  A reward.

Look what I found while I was peeling the apples.

An apple bottom!  I am in love with it.  As you can imagine I sang Flo Rida's" Low".  THE.  ENTIRE. TIME. I made applesauce.  Me, alone in my kitchen, singing about Shawty and her boots with the fur.  God, I love making applesauce.





Add Flo Rida's "Low" to my Lifesoundtrack.  Careful, there are some explicit lyrics here.  So use your best judgement if you are sharing with kiddos.  Just sayin'.