In Praise of Apples


Apples are the quintessential minimalist fruit. Their color and shape is devoid of all the other pomp and circumstance that other fruits enshroud themselves with. They're red and gold, green and pink; they're cripsy, crunchy, sugary, bitter, tart, streams running down the chin, or bursting in the mouth. They're the country side made portable and something about them will always make me feel a million miles away from the hum of the city, in some forgotten field on the vast edges of imagination and dream, in that realm that is both human and inhuman, real and forgotten. It's a strange thing, but apples do this for me. Apples are primitive and elegant, they're biblical and they're magical, they're temptation and poison made tempting, they're a most unsuspecting fruit-- and yet they contain so much of our consciousness (and unconsciousness, for that matter). In summer, I always long for apples, cheese, a loaf of bread, and a day out of doors with the smell of grass and the warmth of sunshine on my skin, making me drowsy. In fall, I long for them in pies, in pancakes and in oatmeal, in cider, the scent of them in the air. Apples are conjurers, and they continually work their magic on me. 

What I love most about apples, however, is the simplicity of them, is -as I have said- their minimalism. Apples don't need to peeled or seeded, or juiced, nor are they demanding creatures to enjoy-- the beauty of an apple is that all one has to do to enjoy one is to bite- and there is something profoundly miraculous in that.

For sometime now I have been going through my own minimalist phase- or perhaps phases is a more accurate description of the adventure as it is rather a whirling business that involves continual purging and modification of items and other facets of my life- and each time I do so, I find myself returning to the idea of the apple, to the way it encompasses so much in so little, and somehow, I just feel better. It's this sense that when the world knocks on my door and demands that I make more money, buy more stuff, work more, do more, be more-- then I can just take a step back and refocus, all in the form of an apple, of a bite- and then somehow, it's as if this gauge in the center of my being shifts and suddenly the world is righted and balanced again, the horizon stable, and everything manageable once more. These are the things that I love about this biblical fruit, this magical fruit, this provincial fruit, this crispy, crunchy, sweet, bitter, tart, juice running down my chin, bursting in my mouth, fruit.

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