Sweet Cider

If it would only stop raining, we'd be having a gorgeous autumn. I miss the smells of dry leaves and woodsmoke that usually weave their way into every strand of hair this time of year. We haven't yet made it to our favorite orchard (Ritter's Cider Mill), but I did have the opportunity to actually work behind-the-scenes pressing organic apples at Bauman's earlier this fall.

Lovely organic apples were ground, pressed, bottled, capped and labeled by hand, and sent off to quench the thirst of children and adults alike at the third annual Apple Festival at the Rodale Institute. There might not be woodsmoke in the air, but there is enough sweet, crisp apple cider flowing in these parts to make us all woozy with the essence of autumn.
For how many years has humanity celebrated the harvest? Releasing that last torrent of wild energy before bedding down for the winter. Rituals of plenty, gratitude, and mischief. I once showed Rowan the pentagram in the center of an apple and he asked if that's where stars are born--inside of apples. I hope his future science teachers will forgive me, but I couldn't help myself. I said "yes."