Counting apples

A neighbor invited us down to pick apples this week, so despite the 90 degree heat, Ole and I marched down the big hill chanting, "Apples Apples Apples!"

On my tippy toes, I plucked them from the spindly tree. I have no idea the variety. They are petite little apples, but that perfect mix of tart and sweet.

And the perfect size for you-know-who.

So we slipped a few into our bag and started the long walk back up the hill.

After a few water and snack breaks in shady rest stops, we made our way back home. Ole pulled out the apples one by one and pointed and counted and even tried some juggling.

A lovely September afternoon.