An Indiana Fall in the Central Western part of the state is like no other. The leaves turn into magnificent colors of reds and golds. It is my favorite time of the year
The temperature during the days starts out crisp and cool enough for a jacket or a sweatshirt and then warms up to the high 60’s and sometimes the low 70’s
Most mornings are perfect for a campfire as you have a cup of coffee and for the family to gather round for a morning talk about the day's activities ahead.
This morning I am thinking of my Foster Grandmother and her homemade apple cider. She and my Foster Grandfather raised my mother and my aunt. I believe my mother was 5 years old when she went to live with them.
I never thought about what Foster meant while growing up. All I knew was that I loved to spend time with her. They had 5 acres with lots of trees to climb and an apple orchard full of big red apples and grapes for jelly. (I made sure I gave them a quality taste year after year.)
Every Fall, we had a big bonfire and cooked our own hotdogs over the fire then roasted marshmallows. I don’t remember a year where there was no cider to drink.
One year, grandmother asked me if I wanted to help her make cider and I was more than eager to learn how and be a part of it. Looking back, it was also my first experience of seeing a home business at work. People stopped all day and bought gallons of it.
The first step was changing into a different set of clothes and the scrubbing of our hands and arms. Then sanitizing all of our tools and then the sanitation of the press was last. The apples had to go through a number of rinses.
Then we had to peel the apples (by hand) and remove all of the cores. Another rinse cycle then onto the press. It looked like a slide with a wheel at the top.
As she turned the wheel to press the apples, the juice started flowing down into big 5 gal steel jugs. She ladled a cup out for us and we sat down and talked and I was on top of the world all day long. I was 13 at the time.
Throughout the years I eventually learned what the term Foster meant and the circumstances why my mother went to live with them. Her experience while with the state was not pleasant and was lucky to end up with her sister at the same set of Foster parents.
But, back in those days, kids could live in a world without the nightmares creeping in … if the parents chose to keep them out. Mine did and so I never had to think about it.
I just played and loved and was loved back and life was good.
Thank you for stopping by!