multi-media by Colette Hosmer
painting by Yana Movchan
In Russia, my autumn was filled with apples. At our dacha, if there was a good crop from the apple trees that year, rooms would be filled to the ceiling with fruit. The house permeated with the apple scent. Some years there were so many apples, they would go unpicked, icing over on the branches. We would try to eat them, thinking they would taste like ice cream.
