Sunday, November 14, 2010

On a Day Like Today

I was feeling somewhat nostalgic and quickly just whipped off this poem...



On a Day Like Today





On a day like today --

a cool, overcast and damp fall day

my father would have been standing

alongside my mother

at the kitchen counter,

newspaper pages open and laid out,

paring knives handy,

a pot ready to be filled,

baskets of red juicy apples, handpicked, washed and waiting to be undressed.

Classical music would have played in the background –

Chopin always welcome in our home.



With paring knife in hand, he would have proceeded.

Slipping the tip under the apple’s skin, and peeling, round and round and round,

turning the fruit as he peeled off its red coat in one long strip.

One after another, the apples were left naked.

Cut and cored, seeded too,

then tossed into the pot to await their duty.



For an hour or two, my parents stood there,

 comfortable in the silence,

not needing to make conversation, just doing this task,

that was done many a Sunday in the fall in our home.

Applesauce. They would make applesauce.

Into the pot and onto the stove element went the apples.

On a low flame, for hours at a time, they were stirred, then they simmered.

A touch of sugar added to enhance the natural flavours.

Applesauce. They would make applesauce.



And when the apples had simmered and softened and cooled

they were jarred.

Jar upon jar. Lidded and labeled.

Placed in the basement refrigerator for

each time a jar was called upon,

a jar was needed.



I miss those days.

I miss their applesauce.

6 comments:

Robin said...

Lovely images. It makes me want to snuggle up in my jammies and have a cup of apple tea. And that's just what I'm gonna do...

torontopearl said...

Re. the reference in the poem to newspapers open and laid out: my parents would lay them open on the counter do their peeling work on them and then wrap the apple peelings, cords and seeds in the papers and toss them. (this was all before recycling paper and tossing food scraps in a green bin.)

Neil said...

Lovely. Was he a big over of classical music? Did you inherit this love?

OldOldLady Of The Hills said...

Such a sweet memory, Pearl...Amd I can picture the whole thing necause of the way you wrote this Poem. It was very very "alive".
I know you must miss those days very very much, and it is understandble, on every level.

David_on_the_Lake said...

awww this was nice.

Chopin..apple sauce and memories.
What could be sweeter?

JA said...

What a wonderful testimonial to Dad, and to Mom. Daniella brought your blogg to y attention because we were talking about Dad's tedium in making Apfel Sauze - his carringly, surgical perfection in peeling each apple as not to break the continued helix of delicate skin.

LOts of love,
JA