Mulling things on my morning ramble
with Storm, the family's mixed Lab
Just a runt of a thing, but a hedge apple for sure, had fallen in the middle of the path on the back side of the town pond as the meathead and I worked our way around.
Another true sign of fall marked off.
There's a rhythm to the outdoors, to nature.
It's one of the beauties of my life following those checkmarks of the season.
I find hedge apples one of the more amusing checks in seasonal change.
The fruit of the Osage orange, those remnants of windbreak fencerows in many rural areas of Illinois, are imbued with magical powers.
Some believe they keep away bugs in homes.
I don't believe it particularly. But a regular cult has built around hedge apples.
I enjoy their artistic value. My wife usually collects a bowl of them and sets them on the dining room.
One thing about hedge apples is they impart an outdoorsy essence to the room. And they last for months.
Kids start school tomorrow.
We move on. Even if heat will build again later this week.