Nothing beats an autumn apple.
In July, I might go for a juicy piece of watermelon. In December, a mandarin orange or two.
But right about now, it's only apples for me.
It was ever thus. Back in the day, when I was a kid and a Sunday in autumn arrived, the parents would load us into the Impala and head for a walking trail. We'd find ourselves sticks, the sisters and I, and tramp through the woods, pausing to wade through puddles and collect coloured leaves and pretty bits of moss.
Midway through the hike, my mother would open her Woodward's bag and dole out the treats. A Red Delicious one day, a McIntosh another.
Nothing ever tasted so good. Sure, there are other standard seasonal eats. Meatloaf, say. Pot roast, spaghetti, macaroni and cheese.
But if fall has a taste that defines it, it's a shiny, crunchy apple - ideally, eaten outdoors.
Last weekend, we went for a walk. We headed to the dike in our sweaters and jeans.
The air was September fresh and cool. A mist hung over the water.
We nodded hello to people walking dogs and pushing strollers and cruising on their bikes.
We veered off the bath and on to the beach and rested a while on a log.
"You brought them?" the husband asked. "The apples?" "Of course," I said, reaching for my bag.
On this day, we munched on juicy, pink Ambrosias.
These days, of course, the offerings far surpass what my mother might have reached for. I remember Spartans back when I was a kid, and certainly a Granny Smith, but I don't recall tasting a Gala, a Fuji, a Honeycrisp or a Jazz. The variety, it seems, is as impressive as the names.
They're all wonderful.
They're all the season's best.
Come the late autumn rain and the chill of December, the dike won't beckon as much. The stroller-pushers will be largely inside, and we will be too, curled up on couches watching football or a roaring fire or puzzling over a Scrabble board.
Our minds - and our palates - will turn to bowls of popcorn and nuts and to plates of crackers and cheese.
But that's down the road. Today, and tomorrow, and the week after next, we'll continue to reach for the sweaters and head out in search of the perfect walking trail.
Not quite sure which ones they'll be, but I know what I'll be taking.
