Picking apples on a perfect
Saturday afternoon in October, we saunter down a dirt road between Courtlands
and Macouns.
A less used lane bears off to the left,
along a small swamp and up a hill. "Let's go that way," I say.
But no one in our little group wants to. There are plenty of apples
right here. And who wants to lug them so far. And besides, we want
to get cider doughnuts.
This is how it is. And why,
forgive me, I like sometimes to travel on my own, going for great rambling
walks, letting my eyes pull me down the next lane, up the next hill, around the
next bend.
Ah, well. I give the lane one last look and stay with my little
tribe, happy with the day and time with family.
And the next day, Sunday, is a fine day, too, with time enough to ramble
before brunch.
"Leaves are falling all around. It's
time I was on my way."
