"The Apple of his Eye"

While perusing the internet for InstaPot recipes  (because I may be a bit obsessed -oh, now I digress, that is a story for later! )I came on one for making applesauce. As I was reading through it the poster had listed all the best varieties of apples to be used. This sparked a memory of a story my Dad used to tell. Join me for a moment as I share a memory.

My Dad and Mom celebrated their 40th anniversary on the third day of February 1964 just 15 days before my 16th birthday and the day my Dad would pass away unexpectedly. My sisters had planned a celebration for them that would include the fellowship of friends and family covering those 40 years. Life had been filled with it's share of challenges during those years but many stories of laughter and love were woven among the sad and tragic. Being the youngest of 8 children, separated by as many as 23 years life was pretty different by the time I arrived, and certainly by the time I was old enough to remember. As a result I have only a smattering of stories to cover those early years.
My Dad and oldest brother and sister worked in the shipyards during the war. Daddy was older with a family to care for and Charlie was not accepted due to health issues. (He died at 21 of cancer) Betty was a welder. The stories were rarely shared of this time but Betty told me of forgetting to take her boots one Sunday. She had to wear her 'Sunday shoes' on her shift and got a terrible burn on her foot when slag fell in her open shoe. "I didn't ever forget my boots after that," she said.

Dad farmed with horses and Mom fed the crews in the early years. Later in their marriage Dad walked the logs on the pond of the saw mill, guiding the logs up the chain to be made into lumber. The family was always rewarded by Mom's gardening and cooking skills and the Sunday Dinner table was rarely set for 'family only.' Even tho the money was sparse the love and hospitality in our home never was. Our table welcomed family, friends, and strangers alike.

In those 40 years they lost 3 children. One to disease, one after only 3 days of life and one to a tragic accident. They lived through the war and the "Great Depression". But the story that everyone of us kids would remember and love the most was how they met.

Daddy was working as a farm hand in the apple orchards of western Washington and Momma was picking apples for that same farmer. Daddy would tell how he saw this pretty girl in the tree, and would continue to embellish the story. But he would always declare "I met your Mom when I shook her out of the apple tree." To which Mom would never disappoint him with her response of "Roy Selby you quit telling that story!" much to our delight.

It is one of my favorite tales as I remember his laugh, the twinkle in his eye as he waited expectantly for Mom's inevitable response.

To this day when I think of the fruit in the apple tree I know that without a doubt my Dad got the "apple of his eye" and the  "cream of the crop!!"

Keep your eyes open you never know where you might find a treasure!