Apples

September has always been a frustrating month for me. You spend all that time doing your back-to-school shopping, getting new corduroys and sweaters and long-sleeved shirts, only to be wearing shorts because it's at least 85 every day. One of the great things about New England is that September means fall is knocking on the door of summer. Yes, I still sent Chloe off to school in shorts more days than not in the past 2 weeks, but the night are getting chilly. I've pulled out my sweatpants and slippers, and am getting close to pulling out our winter bins of clothes.

September means apple picking. My youngest sister was born on September 17th, after a long day picking apples (what was my mom thinking?!?), and every year we would head back out to the same apple orchard on her birthday to pick apples. Last friday, September 9th, my oldest sister Julie gave birth to her son, Rudolph Brayden. Brayden is the first boy - I have only sisters and daughters. So, on Saturday, because we couldn't go snuggle that new baby boy, we did what we've always done to celebrate a September birthday - we went to the orchard.

Mid-September is the perfect collision of summer and fall. We started with the raspberry bushes, then moved to the apple trees with red-stained finger tips.

Not quite in focus. But I couldn't resist sharing the sentiment.

Have a good week!