I didn't grow up visiting orchards in the fall, but I see why New Yorkers feel so strongly about it, and I'm catching up. They are the most romantic of places, a low-slung mysterious maze of short, strong trees. The silvery leaves are hung with ornaments the brilliant colors of perfect and marred fruit. The ground is rolling with apples and long grass. Walking only a few steps, you can disappear entirely.
Man, what a drawing.
Apple in Halloween costume as plum.
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