We wait under the trees.
Grandma slides her hand in mine.
Rustle…swish…
It’s time!
Aunts, uncles, and cousins look upward.
Sparkling rubies and emeralds fall from the sky.
Apples!
The work begins!
My baby brother’s small hands lift the first apple.
Plop!
In the bucket it goes.
Plop, plop, plop!
The bucket overflows.
It’s my turn!
My hands lift the bucket
then pass it along.
Hand to hand
the bucket goes,
until Grandpa’s big hands swing it upward.
Chop! Crunch!
Down the chute they go.
Bits of apple rain down.
Squeeeeze!
Gleaming liquid flows.
Grandma pours it into cups
and I taste the first sweet drops.
Mmmmm!
Back to work!
More apples await.
Bucket after bucket
Hand over hand
until….
the last apple becomes juice.
When we’ve cleaned every
bucket, cloth,
and sticky hand…
It’s time for the best part of all.
We visit every neighbor,
hands outstretched
to share our sweet gift.
The trees grew the apples
and we grew too.
Now our family has apple juice
just for you!
Taste the joy of the harvest
Taste the love we share
passed from hand to hand
year after year.
Sweeter than honey–
we have more than
enough to share.
