Apple of my eye

Or was that apple in my eye? I am not sure. I only know that there were apples everywhere that I turned at my Grandma's house: in the cider, in the fritters, in the trees, on the ground, in the buckets, in the kettle, and in my belly. That last one is my favorite spot for an apple.

We started our family weekend at the Relief Sale. Last year I was only  a month old so I couldn't have any of the tasty food. This time, I got to eat the pork sandwiches and the apples in the fritters. Relief Sale weekend is a Brenneman tradition, but this year was different. The Brennemans have been making apple butter for generations, in a giant copper kettle, over a fire. However, it had been more than a decade since they had done so and my Daddy decided to start the tradition once again. He built a fire and got the cider brewing. Mom climbed a tree and knocked apples down to my cousins. Then my aunts and Grandma cut, cored, and peeled them. Then we cooked them in the kettle (Uncle Mark and Matthew were pros!) and then we put it in jars and ate it. Again, my favorite part is that last step! It was a great reason to get everyone together to celebrate fall and (better still) our family.

 

I showed off my walking skills to the family. It seems each day I am getting more comfortable being a biped. I have been enjoying the unseasonably warm (80+) degree temps this week by walking the neighborhood. Sometimes I hold Mom or Dad's hand; sometimes I go it alone. Sometimes I get tired and need to be carried. I am getting there, though, and quickly. What a big boy!
Thanks for stopping by. Have a great week!