Apple Pie

Today is Wednesday, and I come home from work (fast) and drive to Joe's soccer practice where his mother has let him out, and gather up Eli. Usually Eli wants to kids the soccer ball around before we go to get crickets for the frogs, or cheese for the boys, or milk for breakfast. But today I kicked the ball very hard and Eli chased it to the edge of the field whereup on noticed this gigantic apple tree. I mean really big, huge and old. I have never seen an apple tree grow big, and as we stared, we realized that it was studded with apples, but only up high, where the kids and adults could never reach. The trunk was too tangled and spiky to climb up high--though we tried, Eli first--and so we tried Plan B: throw the soccer ball at the apples. Amazingly, the first time I threw it, I got a huge apple down into the grass. Eli was unsure about the spots and gnarled scars, but I was used to wild apples, so I bravely bit in. And it was sweet--different from any apple you get in the store, where the sweet ones taste like candy; this apple was like wine or real maple syrup, sweet and light and tangled. Eli liked it too. So we ate several, and I kept throwing the soccer ball for more apples when THUCC! the soccer ball gets stuck in the tree. Really stuck, way up. So I climbed up and shook the branch: down came the big black and white soccer ball and down came about ten red apples like little bombs. None hit Eli. Then I got an idea. We have an hour while Joe is practicing. Why not get a pie crust and make this into an apple pie? Why not?

So we do. And we get home and Henry is broiling fresh bluefish. We have bluefish and french fries and spinach (not popular). It's great. Before we eat Eli and I peel a LOT of apples and core them. Joe brings in his new rented French horn and WOW is it beautiful: long, complicated pipes connected with valves, a large flared horn (where you put your right hand). Joe shows me how to blow into it, how to hold my right and left hand and I love the sound it makes: low and muted and far away. He plays several notes and I play several and we put it away. Joe can now play at least four instruments a bit: French horn (the latest), cello, recorder, and piano. Next? Oboe? I suspect Eli will pick up the clarinet, which he says is his favorite.

We can smell the pie in the house. Brown sugar, butter, cornstarch, lemon, spices. Lots of apples.

Will it be ready before their mother comes to whisk them away? Will they get a bite?

Dad