Tradition.

Was it Anne of Green Gables who declared her passionate and undying love for the month of October?
I believe it was...

And for this hypocritical Maine-iac who hates being cold, I love this glorious state of ours right up through this very month.  It's after October where things start to go downhill for me.  I'm still cool with November because we've got Thanksgiving...and I love Thanksgiving just as much, if not more than Christmas.  And then of course, we have ourselves the magic of Christmas in December...and I will take a little bit of snow for that.

But after that, I'm really not overly impressed with my home state's weather selections.
From January through April just stick a fork in me.

But October?
Well, all things are beautious in October...
A vest or a hoodie and a cozy little scarf is all you need.
There are a couple of birthdays in this month for a couple of guys whom I am pretty crazy about, as well, so that gives October even a few more bonus points.

But if all of those things weren't enough to make me madly in love with this month...
Well, then there are apples.
Oh!  The apples...

There were three things - garden wise - that I desperately wanted to accomplish this year despite our two crazy life changes of a new baby and a big old move.  I wanted to pick berries and make strawberry jam.  I wanted to grow cucumbers and make bread and butter pickles - nothing else in my garden mattered - just those pickles, because my boys inhale them.  And I wanted to pick apples and make tons and tons of applesauce.  Because, good gracious, my baby girl is already taking little tastes of foodies here and there.

I must have some yummy applesauce for her!
Never mind the three Grocery Killers that are her brothers...

So, a couple of weekends ago, in keeping with tradition, my boys loaded up our backseat with the biggest baskets and buckets that they could find, and we headed out to our favorite local orchard.  The owner's wife taught my husband all the way through his highschool years.  And that baby face of his must have done the trick, because she likes him for some reason....and she lets me pick as many drops as my little heart desires.  How I love this woman.  Tis a great gift that she gives me!

And so...

We pick and pick and pick.
We sample, sample, sample.

And then we get ourselves gloriously lost in the corn maze down yonder, and we top the afternoon off with a yummy ice cream cone. 

She likes this tradition of ours.

And then!

We head home, and over the next few days, just about every single room of the house is littered with apple cores - despite my perpetual reminders to "throw them in the TRASH!," the kitchen is a sty for a few days while we get into the thick of applesauce making, and I am giddy with happiness as I see my wee little canning shelf downstairs in the basement get filled to the brim with quarts and quarts of Applesauce Heaven for the long, cold winter that lies ahead of us.

A few of life's simple joys.
Don't mind the cinnamon on the floor...

It's tradition.
And I LOVE it.

Some regular.  Some with blueberry.  Shake well and serve.

I am so glad, as well, dear Anne that I live in a place that has Octobers...
And three Hoolie boys...
And one delicious baby girl...
And one big Daddy...