Hb generously gave us a bag of freshly picked apples from off his backyard tree. He had ld and I note their color, cracklin’ crisp texture and superior flavor.
Be sure to wash them, he warned. I sprayed them a lot to keep them worm free.
We nodded. Very fine apples, indeed.
I remarked on his tremendous talent for growing apples.
Hb, in true A.S.S. humility, sighed. What can I say? Like my father before me, I am a man of the soil.
‘Ya think?
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