"They got old and mushy so I had to throw them away." she said.
"Oh," I answered. "Don't you know there is magic in old mushy apples. "With a little work, sugar and cinnamon they turn into sweet applesause."
I'm getting older myself. When I look in the mirror I wonder who that wrinkled woman is looking back at me.
Then I remember my wrinkled apples. Perhaps the best we have to offer comes when it seems we are past our prime - only good for retirement But there is still magic in this old heart. There is a mellow sweetness that only comes with age. Even though I am wrinkled, I still have much to give - to nourish and delight.
