In Which Mr. A. Plans a Surprise
On Saturday, Mr. A. took us for a drive, but he wouldn't tell us where we were ultimately destined. After breakfast in St. Charles, we took the ferry over to Brussels Island in the Mississippi. The island seemed enchanted with its rolling cornfields and little farms tucked away from the road. It was like revisiting the past or being in another country. I wanted to stay on the island forever.
But Mr. A. said no, he had other places to go and things for us to see.
We circled back and took another ferry off the island.
And then we were at Eckert's Orchard.
We rode the hayride out to the trees. Apples lay thick in the shade. Apples, everywhere! We stomped on apples that had wandered into the path. Crunch! We tossed a few into the neighboring field. Kerplunk! One precocious youngster with a keen aim tossed an apple in Mr. A.'s direction and it landed squarely on his foot! Owwch! We probably tasted as many apples as we took away: Tart Jonathans and mellow Red and Golden Delicious. Crisp apples on a crisp day, with a cloudless azure sky and the company of those I love: could anything be more perfect?