My sister loves the Macintosh. I’m a fan of Fuji. My son is obsessed with Granny Smith. My roomie adores Pink Ladies. My friend has an apple farm -chock full- of Summerfields. A breed I’m not too familiar but would love to get to know. Which got me to thinking. Crap. There’s goes the my mouse around the trap. Damn, my thinking. I know… It happens. Often. I can’t help it. I’m like a child. An annoying one. How many species of apples are there? Can we mix them together in a pie and stick our thumbs in it?
What if people were like apples? If I love Fuji apples so much, how am I then similar… Am I sweet with a refreshingly crispy crunch? But let my Fuji booty sit out too long and I bite back? Will little bugs eat away at me from the inside out? Ew. I digress. Horrible to imagine my robust and savory tiddles to relinquish to such rottenry. Yes, I made that up. Quite adorable, I’d say. To the rottenry! Away with you… “Red Delicious.” You’re neither sweet nor tasty. Nor crunchy. More kind of bland really… Oh how I know those that resemble that type of ambrosial.
You never know what kind of aromatic fruit you’re going to get when you opt for a new tasty treat like an apple. Yummy goodness, that’s what. Tangy. The party girl. Sweet. The sundress variety. Flowery. Innocence abound. Blasé. Droll personalities encumber! And rotten ones? Beautiful distractions usually… Well, at least those have bumps and bruising all over them. Applesauce anyone? You can kinda spot them a mile away. Or at least in the fruit bowl on the table. And since a rotten apple can be seen from the kitchen, they’re still useful… And fun to throw! Who’s up for an Apple War?
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