Reading · Midwifery, Mothering & Me

This project, A Year of Meals, consists of daily posts a meal I had the day before, and includes glimpses and reflections into my life as a midwife, wife and human. It also serves as a love letter to my beloved husband Kevin (aka My Love, or, My Guy) who pestered me to start this thing.

Change is coming. The apples are dropping, at least some of them. The tomatoes are ripening faster than we can eat them. This morning, when I looked out my second story bedroom window, I saw green lawn speckled with yellow leaves. Fall maybe be months away on the calendar, but apparently, my homestead is getting an early viewing.

Yesterday, while sitting in the hot tub during our morning soak (I like to think of it as Forest Bathing), I noticed that the nearest apple tree had dropped a third of its fruit. Later in the day, I figured that I would go take a look. In years past, I would walk up the hill. Yesterday, I decided to drive, not knowing what I would find at the top, and pretty sure my energy would be spent just walking, let alone looking for apples, maybe finding them, picking them, walking back down the hill with said apples, then dealing with the windfall crop. It was a good idea. There were a few ripe apples in three different spots, maybe 10 pounds all together. It was certainly more walking and carrying than I would have managed without four wheels and a trunk for hauling me, Kevin, and the apples back down the hill.

Our apple trees are old, wild, overgrown, unkempt, very tall, and produce great fruit for birds, deer, and our resident black bear. They even produce a few apples that are worthy eating out of hand. Yesterday, most of the apples we collected were bumped, bruised, knobby. In my experience, such apples are perfect for cider, cobbler, or, applesauce with apple sauce being the fastest and easiest way to process a small harvest. That is exactly what happened. We drove the apples down the hill, I hosed them off, and after a little knifework, they were ready to cook. When given apples, and a smidge of water, an Instant Pot can produce quarts of applesauce in under an hour. Repeat the process and, poof, 10 pounds of windfall apples become jars of applesauce. (If you are interested, here is my applesauce recipe, shared March of 2025.)

It is taking time, patience, acceptance, and a bit of bravery, but I am learning to use the tools I have to extend my energetic reach. It was so much better (and more fun) to drive the car up the hill (mind you, this is not a big hill) and pick apples than to either sit inside thinking about apple picking, or, to trug up the hill carrying a bucket, apple sweeper, and arrive at the top already exhausted. Deciding to drive the car momentarily hurt my pride, but gave me so much in return.

Last Night’s Menu: BLTs, Corn on the Cob

Company: Me, Kevin