Yesterday we went to an apple orchard to pick apples.  The trees beckoned, and branched and bent beautifully to offer their fruit.  At first, it seemed like an Easter egg hunt, a search for the “best” apple, and then, I slowed, overwhelmed with the abundance and an environment that was more than I thought I’d come for.  I was surrounded with hills, as I stood on soil that though still was tangled and ribboned with active, nourishing roots.

After picking, we ate apple turnovers scented with the cinnamon scent of fall.  It felt too sacred for photos, and enough to be part of the landscape of an orchard for a time.  

We returned to Jeff and Jan’s for a feast they created for us and friends.  We celebrate Thanksgiving on the fourth Thursday in November, and yet I feel how the gratitude of Thanksgiving begins with the return of autumn and its offerings and gatherings of all that is produced.