Crackle of the chill September and the wind blows. Today is the day—we can all feel it. Two and a half hours to Dixons’ and a jug of cold, pressed cider; now back home. The car is loaded and we have lots of work ahead. Apples sacked pile on the floor, apples soaking fill the sink, apples peeled and sliced are ready. Sticky juices and squeaking shoes, the kitchen is bustling with eight hands, all sweetly moist and deftly skilled. Champagne for the tart, Sparkling Burgundy for the sweet, their firm pinkish flesh combine—a seductive piquant make. Cinnamon and sugar on the counter, Red Hots in the sauce, oats and flour crumble, the air is filled and zesty; it smells like fall. On the stove Great-Grandma’s speckled canner steams and boils jars of apples to last through the year. An open jar of peanut butter and a block of cheese in addition to the crisp apple-y goodness and chatting with mother makes the time stretch long into the night, by the end, browning cores and countless seeds scattered, a crockpot bubbling in the corner. But best of all, tomorrow morning, I’ll eat a slice of golden apple pie.
10 months ago
7 comments:
I like it. I think you're on to something on the pb and cheese part of it - it doesn't seem to fit. Maybe re-work that sentence so it's the same color/voice as the rest. Right now it's a more complete sentence than anything else and more logical-progressive than poetic. But don't take away the 'browning cores and countless seeds scattered.' It's beautiful.
Oh what memories!!! I love it! You have the the jars of apple sauce being canned before the crockpot cooking the sauce...? Did I miss something? I love all your wording though! It really captures the process and the memories.
it's not so much that the canning happens first, but that the canning isn't applesauce. it's apple butter or pie filling or something.
I still really don't like the last half.
Mmmm- this brings back my own memories of buying bags of Dixons apples and getting together with my friend Robyn to wash, peel and cut. We would make bags and bags of apple pie filling to freeze (plus, of course, one pie each for that night.) We would do it with my kids, but hers were at school. I could almost smell them! Mmmmmm-
Maybe you could get rid of whatever you don't like, and replace it with something tying it back to the beginning of the sketch?
One thing I noticed is that this is very sensory - but although it's all about making food, you don't mention taste at all until the end (and then not descriptively as you do the other sensed things, just sooo briefly). I'm trying to decide if it's awesome with all these hints tell us enough about how great it's going to taste, or if I wish you would use some of the strong, vibrant language you used earlier, to give us a taste of product of the night. Hm.
Others are much more qualified than I to comment on the structure, but the memories, oh my! I loved those times. We shared such sweet times together and such sweet results.
I love the canner "scene" tying "great-grandma" to the current generation. I can smell the apples and cinnamon and taste the apple slices, cheese, and PB as we talk into the night waiting for the last of the processing to finish. Yep, I love it! (see, I'm no real help.)
Do you remember the year we put up black eyed peas? For some reason that year stands out to me. I loved the days sitting on the back porch shelling those peas.
Overall, I think it's great, Caity. Well done! I love your vibrant descriptions; as I read it, I could envision everything perfectly. Such a lovely scene. The only part that seemed out of place was the bit about peanut butter and cheese (something you've already taken note of). There's just something about it that interrupts the beautiful flow of language you've got going... sort of like a bump on an otherwise smooth road. :)
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