Applesauce

When we lived in Portland, some years ago, we stumbled upon a farmer's market selling Gravenstein apples - the very best, in my opinion, for applesauce. My grandmother used to can applesauce and hers was the best, but we had to try the gravensteins ourselves - to freeze, not can (I don't have the confidence to be sure of not introducing food poisoning to my beloveds.) And so a tradition started. We've been stocking up on homemade applesauce every year since.

But we missed out this year somehow. Missed the gravensteins altogether. We did find a substitute at the farmer's market though, and so spent much of last weekend cutting up apples and then ricing them up for sauce.

(Now my freezer is full and I just discovered that my husband is one of those people who thinks applesauce can only be eaten with pork. Good grief!)

So applesauce is one of the wonderful things about fall. So are golden leaves, that certain smell and crispness in the air, dramatic clouds, and the opportunity to sleep under a heavy blanket again.

So why don't I LIKE fall? What's not to like? Why do I get all gloomy and backward looking every fall? For that matter, with summer's heat and dryness, why do I like summer so much? Spring is wet and unpredictable but I still love that season. What gives?