Oh the season of apples.
Farmers here are scrambling to get their last apples off the trees. Frost hits in the mornings and they have to wait until it warms up to pick. You can almost hear the ulcers growing.
Meanwhile, the rest of us, wait anxiously for those yummy fruits. We're waiting to bake them, dry them, or fry them.
Some of us are just waiting to munch them.
Especially "horse people." A certain blond waits at the barn door every afternoon, a froth of wild mane flipping in the air as she waits impatiently for her treat.
There is a price to be paid tho - I purse my lips, make a kissing sound and a velvet nose swings up to my face for a smooch which is quickly exchanged for a nice, juicy apple.
And, if I'm real quick I can get out of the way before she wipes her apple slobber all over me.
Retribution, I think, for apple blackmail.
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