From little seeds grew our apple trees.
They were my husband's first, but now they also belong to me.
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Year after year we prune, spray, and wait for blossoms to bloom.
Tiny apples grow green while drinking in summer's rain.
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Multi-colored birds chirp and sing amid the branches.
Squirrels and chipmunks run and play all day, sleep at night.
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The winds of fall bring cooler air and apples turning red.
So now the call goes out to family and friends from near and far.
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Come share the bounty, make pies with aromas that make you drool.
Come now for tart apples, but for sweetness, wait a week or two!
Note: First come first served
and if we're not home,
the apple picker leans up against the Mac tree.
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