This year my apple bag felt a lot heavier than usual. Perhaps it was taking a cue from my heart. My apple picking companion was conspicuously absent. My son and his girlfriend of four and half years have parted ways and although both have happily moved on, I found myself very sad. We had our apple picking perfected, an ideal picking team so to speak. My lovely young friend always remembered what apples we didn't care for and knew precisely were to find the Honey Crisps. I thought we would be enjoying this wonderful autumn tradition together for many seasons to come. It's funny how just the simple act of picking apples in an orchard can break your heart.
Hearts will never be made practical until they are made unbreakable.
From Beyond My Kitchen Window