My first visit ever to the annual Apple Tasting at Portland Nursery last week sealed the season for me. FINALLY, evidence that summer is really over and we're moving again toward the seasons we're known for here. And I'm such a typically romantic northwesterner. Even the discomfort of standing on a wet, windy street corner, chilled to the bone while waiting interminably for a bus that never seems to arrive, can't dispel the excited anticipation that charges my soul this time every year. Also? I confess that I enjoy being amused by, and feeling slightly superior (okay, maybe not so slightly) to the recent transplants from sunnier climates consistently complaining about the long, dark drench that starts about now and doesn't really end until about the middle of July. Heh, heh. Lightweights.
And then there are the apples and pears piled over my kitchen counter this morning. Thinking that a tart would be a lovely project today. Yup.
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