Pick Your Own

It was what can only be described as a quintessential fall day in New England. There was apple picking in the bright fall sunshine with dew still on the grass. The trees were overflowing with large, beautiful apples, Mother Nature's gift to us for bearing a cold, rainy summer. Then there was the impulsive U-turn on the way back home to make a stop at the vegetable farm that bragged of its pick your own flowers. Of course, the only proper way to end that perfect fall day was with one perfect apple pie sliding into the oven and filling the house with scents of sugary-cinnamony goodness.