C3001-88 Thanksgiving

I am thankful for the snow apples that fell from the tree in Florence’s orchard. When she saw me munching on one of those apples, she asked me if I had picked it. And then, when I told her that You had picked those apples Yourself and spread them around the base of the tree, she quickly gathered them up and turned them into apple sauce, that nothing might be lost. Later, when she looked out the kitchen window at the orchard, she smiled because You were still standing there, watching.