After All the Apples

 This is an apple ass apple. It tastes like what you'd expect from an apple, but nothing more. ha's not necessarily a bad thing. Sometimes the ordinary, the predictable, the mundane can be comforting. I can find that everywhere in life, I don't need to add it to my orchard.  

 He's a crispy boy, but I don't feel much like dancing. There is a hint of sweetness, but that could be coming from me. The residual sweetness of being held by people that love you and see you for all that you can be. The water content in this apple is high, or maybe my mouth is wet from tears that I've cried and tasted. No saltiness, just moisture, the dew of joy. Sweet Tango won't make it into the orchard, but my friends will.

 What a pleasant tartness. A satisfying crunch. Would be fun at a party, but I might not bring eem home. To the orchard. 

 Sweet, crispy, juicy. Has all this fun, juicy shit going on despite the wrinkly worn exterior. I'm shocked this old apple has so much life to it. Almost tastes like a pear, but if a pear were flavorful and sweet with the essence of honey. Definitely going into the orchard. So many celebrations to be had within my own heart, large, small, present future. But there's so much shit swirling around the outside of my skin. A lot of it is hard. A lot of it is out of my control. A lot of it makes me really fucking sad. So I hold on tight to those joys that I have to keep close. I don't know if there's anyone else here to celebrate. I don't know if tomorrow the circumstances will change. I don't know if the wear and tear on the skin is making its way into the meat of my delicious flesh. My sweet spirit. My fun heart. God, I hope my heart stays fun.

 WOOOOOOO!!! I didn't think that an apple could taste like cotton candy. I didn't think that I'd want one to.  What a treat. Much like going to an amusement park on a day in June when the weather is absolutely perfect. The lines aren't too long. Every child is happy.  This isn't an everyday apple, but my lord it is a special treat. She's gotta go in the orchard and maybe we'd start a festival celebrating her harvest time. But let's not hang on too long, when she's ready, we enjoy her, when her time has passed, we remain grateful for the memories and get excited for the next time that she comes around. But let's not dwell on the sadness of missing her, let's remember her in joy.  And even as the taste of cotton candy becomes distant, a mere shimmer where the explosion of her essence once lived, we continue to cultivate happiness because that's how much of a blessing every moment with her is.  May there always be a smile, always. 

 I ate this apple before I could find information on it. Gotdamn is it delicious. This apple cultivar started off as a regular ole Fuji until someone happened upon a genetic mutation in the 1990's. Their website states that the mutation is involved in the apple's appearance and that this variety has been meticulously cultivated for decades. Sometimes trademarks, puffed-up strains and all the other bells and whistles are not much more than a gimmick.  Bruv. This is not the case. I LOVE Fuji apples. This is so much more. My brain tingled a little bit as all the bits and pieces up there did their best to register the experience. Sweet, crispy, a hugging mouthfeel that could be chalky, could be mealy, but isn't. It's just...pleasant. Juicy. Balanced. Complex, but approachable. I feel satisfied.  If I have to acquire a license to put baby girl in the future orchard, she will be the only exception.  All I can think about is the fact that I want another, but I only purchase...

 This boy CRUNCHY. It should maybe be a little sweeter to keep up with all the crispiness, but it's enjoyable all the same. Simple, to the point, not sure there's room for him in the orchard.  My eyes are killing me. Hours and hours of them being glued to this silly little computer screen as I stomp through time planning out every detail of the growing season to come. I need to know what I'm going to harvest and when, but I think that's where I'd like the control to stop.  Another year where I've welcomed January and whatever it decides to bring me with open arms. It's incredible how much growth we don't acknowledge within ourselves until it hits us over the head.  Yet again, I've declared "I want to be prepared to be used how the big world and the small ones within need me." Look how far I've come. Reins down beside me, head to the sky.

 I shelled out a nice chunk of change for this apple because the flesh is a little red inside. Wouldn't say I'm incredibly disappointed, I also don't claim to be deeply pleased. At least it's an apple. It's sweet like a Honeycrisp on a mediocre day. Not much complexity, but crispy enough to be noisy. I'll send the seed to my future orchard just to throw his genes into the wind. The first bite compelled me to tell someone how red it wasn't. But there is no one to tell. Isolation is strange like that. You'd think the instinct to reach out would morph into a song that only you can hear. A song that stays between your own ears, not groovy enough to make you dance, but live enough to take you out of the moment. Instead, your hands still stretch in front of you, feeling their way through an empty space. Breaking through your own electromagnetic field just to find you on the other side of it, standing alone.  I'm grateful that I had a pretty and safe apple ...

 This one is sweet. A little sharp. Could be mealy, but chooses not to be, at least in this moment. Red mottled skin. Pleasant crunch.  Assigning a number to an apple feels trivial with all the things happening in the world right now.  So I'll say I liked it, but she probably won't make it into my orchard. The orchard doesn't exist yet, but one day it will. As there will also be peace and respect across the species, the races, the nations...it won't be peaceful because it's quiet. It will be peaceful because there's no need to scream. If we are all heard, if we are all looking to love, I don't know how high my voice would need to be raised. Probably not at all.  One day. Not today, but eventually. Maybe then, Wild Twist will be in my orchard, I just won't be alive to eat it. Maybe some beautiful people one thousand years from now will enjoy that apple, even if it does turn out to be a little mealy. The seeds can go in now, though.