I’m opening the balcony window. I’m going out and sitting on the terrace with a mug of coffee. I’m looking at the orchard.
I’m observing pearmains are ripe currantly. the apple tree seems to be tired of heaviness of fruit. it looks very picturesquely.
first thought – apple pie. during picking pearmains into the bag made by the bottom of my tee shirt, I changed my mind.
that will be an apple charlotte with crumble – thin, crispy pie crust, thick filling of sourish, melt-in-the-mouth pearmains means: a very Polish apple charlotte.