Big wooden boxes filled with all kinds of pumpkins and gourds lined the parking lot. Some were green, some orange, some white, some flesh colored, some big, some small, some shaped like gnome hats, some with big hideous warts, some squishy looking, some fat, some for cooking, some for decoration. When I walked through the opened door of apple house, a waft of sweet-smelling fried pies, pastries and breads tickled my nose. From the long line of customers, it seems they must have been enticed by the pleasing aromas too, as they waited somewhat patiently to make their purchases.
I made our selection of apples to be made into applesauce, pies and other tasty treats, and let my husband pay for them while I went outside to wait. As I sat on a bench people watching, I saw an elderly gentleman come my way. He pushed one of those small half carts, with his cane riding inside the little buggy. Carefully, he sat down on another bench. He had a slight smile on his face that looked like it could be permanent fixture. He looked toward another gentleman and said, “It sure is a pretty day, isn’t it?” There was no response. I watched him closely, then his eyes met mine and I smiled and nodded in agreement. When I got up to leave, I told him to enjoy this pretty day. His whole face lit up.
Little did the elderly man realize that seeing him stirred many memories for me. For several years in the fall of the year, another elderly gentleman, my father, and I took a trip to the Apple Capital of Georgia to get apples. We would make a day of it visiting one of the many orchards in the area and going out for lunch. Our adventures always included a scenic drive while Daddy told tales of his childhood and family history.
Autumn memories somehow make an already pretty day with family even sweeter.
