In days when nobody had insurance, things were less stressful. Near Winkle, a little girl looked up and said, “Those are happy clouds.” About then the apple man wheeled up amongst us farm kids. Oh he had breakfast rolls and other things he tempted you with. Kind of reminded you of Mr. Haney of Green Acres and, yes, twice as funny. He had an old squared-off vehicle with the seats out, loaded with apples. The tires were flattened like Smokey Stover’s in the funny papers.
Mom bought a bushel of Grimes Golden apples for $2. My lands. My Ball jar-canning book says that’s 48 pounds. Today, you might get five pink ladies for that.
But us kids were bubbly with our free lollipops that one carefree summer day, brightened by the apple man. Then we were melancholy as he disappeared amongst the scarlet haw down the glen, but he said, “Wait for me this fall. I’ll be back with a load of Winesap.” And we did.
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