Apples In A Hat

APPLES

The sticky shine of fruit,
kitchen easy with talk,
kettle at simmer

a cidery daylight

glints at the window.

An old soft crumpled straw

brim up:

she's brought me 

apples in a hat.

I found this poem on a card when I was sorting out The Stash. It was written around 2011 by Meg Peacocke, a poet from Devon. Now 93, she is the sister of the late composer Sir  Richard Rodney Bennett. The next day, I looked after two children for a friend while she went for a run. She brought me back two large cooking apples "from a freebies box down Woodgate, I passed it on my run". 

I put them in my hat and took a picture. Later in the day, Bob and I were going to the council tip- we diverted down the lane to Woodgate and I gathered half a dozen more apples. In the afternoon I peeled them, blanched and froze most, but made a pie for our weekend desserts.

Delicious!