apples, college, Minnesota, Musing, Thoughts

30 Apples and Some Pie; my love for Johnny Appleseed

Morgan–we went apple picking again! I hope you have also had the opportunity to get some yummy Minnesota apples as well. Fall seems to have arrived here. We are keeping a list of notable “cold” dates on a white board in our dorm. Check it: “September 22nd–I could see my breath last night.” RIDIC.

So, we each got a peck, or about 30, apples, which means there’s almost a hundred apples between the three of us. I’m psyched to a) eat them, and b) do cool things with them (we know a guy with a dehydrator. Can you say apple chips?) We also got some PIE at the orchard which was…indescribably delicious.

Fall and apples seems so two and two (or is it hand in hand? eh), and apples just seem…quintessentially American. So, so versatile–apple pie, apple turnover, apple sauce, apple donuts, apple cider, apple apple apple–and hardy, like potatoes. Heck, when Bubba listed all the sorts of things one could make from shrimp he might as well have been listing all the things one can make out of apples. Same deal.

Mo have you ever seen the cartoon of Johnny Appleseed? It’s precious. Check it out:

A) Johnny has some sick apple juggling skills, and B) he didn’t even FLINCH when that swarm of bees came and ate his apple. Cray. (Part duo of this post: the history of Johnny Appleseed? Because…WHAT.a.cool.dude.)

Alright, nada mas. I’ve got to get up early because I want to harvest on the farm here, ergo, sleep is calling. Hope you’re well. Love,

Drew

P.S. I BOUGHT A BIKE.

I’m in the process of naming him (how do I know he’s a him? Well, Charlotte–one of my roommies–and I both bought bikes from this older couple who refurbishes worn-down bikes, and they said the bike I bought, and the bike Charlotte bought, belonged to their neighbors, a husband and wife, and mine was the husband’s (Charlotte’s, the wife’s, is decked out with a more comfy seat and a light. Alas. And yet, I have the rack on the back! Whattup gender roles.))

Thoughts on a name? B-storm it. Note: our hot-water kettle (NOT hot pot…as I thought it was called. who knows what a hot pot is.) is already named Gustaf, so uh, that’s taken.

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