Apples and Autumn

On some flight from Seattle earlier this year, my seatmate was in the apple distribution business. I had to ask him which were better in his opinion: Michigan or Washington apples? He put it slightly to Washington. I remain unconvinced, though it's been decades since I've had a Michigan apple. (Both are better than the New Zealand apples we get here -- a bit mealy-tasting.)

In any event, for me autumn will always be associated with apples, in so many ways. Trips out to someplace forgotten (the name "Apple Mountain" sticks in my mind, can anyone confirm?) where one could get fresh apple cider and other apple products, I think, while watching the press. The tradition sort of continues here with a "farm" in Woodinville that also sells fresh cider this time of year. Kathy says they use a special variety of apple developed right here -- whatever the case, it's good.

And as it gets colder and nearer winter another memory comes forward: the heady smell of bushel baskets of apples on the Hensons' enclosed back porch. Sadly their house on Ashman Street (at Nelson) is gone now, along with all the apple trees we kids played in, from the huge old tree out front to the small young trees, some barely large enough to climb in. I really wonder about that property -- it doesn't seem to be a park though it's kept. Perhaps the current owners of the Caldwell and Putnam houses (to the north) own it now?

And one more memory I can barely place: a church youth group party in 1967 where, among other things, we bobbed for apples. I don't remember where it was, other than in somebody's basement, but I'm guessing the Fayerweathers'. I seem to remember a hayride along with it, but that's stretching things.