Big Mac Attack
My agile son climbs up a tree, across the street, to pick one more hatful of rosy, red apples. Unsprayed and unnoticed, these juicy McIntosh's, are ignored by our affluent neighbours, whom, it seems, mostly believe, fruits and vegetables are to be purchased, weekly, in an overpriced store. Surely, child and adult, alone, would not miss an appetizing slice of sun-kissed energy. Seems to be. Better pluck one more, just for me!
There must be at least, thirty thirst quenching morsels of miraculous delight, lining the never lonely shelves of our overflowing fridge, as I faithfully type, into the moonlit night. No one has come to claim our bright and brilliant babies. Kaelin can't seem to go without them. Believe we'll keep 'em. Tomorrow's breakfast. Today's midnight snack. A young friend's visit. An old Aunt's vitamin C rich cure. Give them back? I am still not quite too sure.
Wrapped in their own shiniest skin, protecting the tender, juiciness within. Filled with antioxidants and low on the glycemic index. Enzymes as "sparks of life", to sustain a growing child or an aging elder. In a salad. Blended into a smoothie. The best piece of un-cooked pie. Juiced. Or, simply; spit on, and eaten, readily from the hand. Filling and energizing. Delicious and nutritious. A bite of beauty offered, for all to see and taste. An apple in it's purest form. Anything less would be an unnatural waste!