The other day, Our Ms. Bean announced that she is taking part in the A-Z challenge. It sounds a lot like NaBloPoMo used to be, with the interesting twist that each post is centered around a letter of the alphabet and you get Sundays off. I have been really lazy as far as posting goes lately. Do you know that my post from January is still in the five most recent posts scrolly thing on the front page? I really need something to help me get started again since when I don’t write for a while it gets easier and easier to put it off longer.
They encourage you to have a theme. I’m not entirely sure what my theme is – because I have planned this out oh so well. Do you know some people write their posts ahead of time? That’s always seemed against the spirit of the challenge to me but you know, whatever you need to do. I had trouble even choosing a category. I am thinking that since so much of the sorting and packing is triggering memories, my theme (such as it is) is probably going to be about family stories and memories this month. We’ll see.
I appreciate you folks who have continued to check in and I hope you will enjoy the posts and stories I will be writing this month. I’ll tell you that part of my problem has been needing photos and taking the time to take and edit new pictures so I will be using some old ones to fill in some. Such as this one from a few years ago.
A is for Apple Blossoms
My apple blossoms are not quite at that stage yet, even though spring came really early this year. This tree produces small, green apples that never ripen, but it’s the last of Dad’s fruit trees – or as I like to call them, natural bird feeders. He used to stalk the fruit trees, particularly the cherry, until he just knew they would be ready to pick tomorrow. Then, of course, all the fruit would be gone in the morning. The exception was an apple none of us had ever heard of before, the Arkansas Black. This apple was a dark, dark red that did not ripen until after it was picked and stuck in cold storage a couple months. It was so strange. But made a really nice pie.
Growing up in Kansas City we had a couple of apple trees and a plum tree way in the back of the yard. When I was maybe 5 or 6, I decided to run away. I hid under the plum tree all afternoon (or 20 minutes, who knows?) waiting for it to grow dark so I could run away. Come dinner time, Mom stuck her head out of the door and yelled at me to come in and eat. Sigh. She hadn’t missed me. She never even knew I ran away.