For the Food on Fridays carnival, any post remotely related to food is welcome—though we love to try new dishes, your post doesn’t have to be a recipe. We’re pretty relaxed over here, and stories and photos are as welcome as menus and recipes. When your Food on Fridays contribution is ready, just grab the button to include with your post. It ties us together visually. Then fill in the boxes of this linky tool to join the fun!
Food on Fridays with Ann
Last week I missed posting Food on Fridays. Leaving no story, no linky, no explanation of any kind, I simply fell silent.
Well, I broke my blog.
I couldn’t access my WordPress dashboard, so I was unable to publish anything at all—not even a brief explanation of my silence—leaving you stranded. Please accept my apologies and know that I was doing all I could to sort it out. After poking around on my own, I gave up. I called WordPress specialist Chris Cree, who has transferred annkroeker. writer. to EmmanuelPress.com. Thanks to his expertise behind the scenes, I am up and running again. (And, backed by EmmanuelPress tech support, I won’t be able to break anything.)
I’m so happy, I wanted to bake a cake or something and welcome you back with a party, but we’ll go the healthy route instead as I share with you my late-summer backyard surprise.
We planted two tiny apple trees last year—Fuji and Honeycrisp—in hopes of enjoying a tiny crop of fruit this fall. These trees are so slim and twiggy, they look like long marshmallow roasting sticks. Nevertheless, in April these slender stalks exploded with spring blossoms bursting open with promise.
Many of the blossoms evolved into round fruit that we watched, dreaming of a generous crop. Then, a spring freeze destroyed all of the fruit on the Fuji and most of the fruit on the Honeycrisp.
This summer we marveled as the surviving Honeycrisps plumped up and matured. Just last week, we harvested the apples—all four of them—from that one stalwart tree.
I brought them in and set them on the counter. “Let’s cut up one to share,” I proposed. My daughter was bouncing with anticipation. I was grinning like a kid as I sliced it in half. Then quarters. I cut out the seeds and then reduced them to slivers. We counted them up and divided by six.
“Prepare yourself,” I warned, “because it might not be ripe. I don’t know if they’re ready, so it could be tart if I picked them too soon.”
She nodded, and we lifted them in the air and tapped the slices together like wine glasses for a toast. “Here’s to homegrown apples!” I proposed.
“Here, here!” my daughter shouted.
Then we each took a small bite of our slices, faces pinched as we prepared for a burst of tart.
Sweetness. Our faces relaxed into the sugary sensation that spread through our mouths, surprising our taste buds.
“It’s so sweet!” I exclaimed.
“And crisp!” my daughter added.
We ran through the house to the other kids and their dad, holding out their portions. “Try this!” we said. One by one, they delighted in the realization that our tiny little trees produced such a delicious treat.
In our own back yard. Apples. Sweet, crisp, edible apples.
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Photos by Ann Kroeker. “Pin” these images in a way that links back to this particular page, giving proper credit.
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