It is the middle of the northern hemisphere winter.
The time of death.
The time of life hidden.
Yet when I look at these mature apple trees, smiles of hope well up inside me.
My imagination sees apple blossoms;
Smells apple blossoms;
Tastes apples off the tree;
Tastes apple pies;
And having had my senses gratified, I sleep peacefully.
Please share your apple thoughts and memories.