Snow White's Apples

Snow White’s Apple

We’re heading out of a small town along our route to White Mountain and see a roadside sign – APPLES – APPLE PIE.  A small table is full of apples and pies for sale.  We park the car and get out.  An old man sits alongside his rusting van working on large print word searches and crossword puzzles.  A big brown dog is leashed and lashed to the man’s chair.  The leash is long, so I walk around the back of the van.  The dog outsmarts me and greets me at the end of his leash on the other side.  Big boned in the head like a lab, but lean in the body like a setter, the dog has dusty black fur and big brown eyes.  He sniffs my hand then up and down my legs and lets me pass.  The old man sets his magazine on his aluminum lawn chair.  A man of few words, he recommends the Cortland apples, an 1898 hybrid not commonly found in Washington.  We buy a bag, pick out two, rub them clean and take a big bite.  The skin is a shiny, thin red glaze.  Inside is snow white with random threads of red.  Crunchy, juicy, tart and sweet.  No wonder she fell under it’s spell.

Today marked a turning point in our travels.  Halfway through the drive, at about mile 6,400, we turned the car and pointed in west to Vermont.  Even though we will be in Vermont through the weekend and head to Niagara Falls after that, this is the beginning of the end.   We are officially on a westbound path.