Growing up, the arrival of apple season was always enough to get me through the back-to-school blues. The sweet aroma of apple cider doughnuts and the numerous haystacks provided necessary relief from the pungent smell that lingered in the city. While my siblings would fight over who got to use the long stick to reach the highest apple on the tree, I spent my time traversing the orchards searching for low-hanging fruit. There was something about picking an apple from the tree and taking a big ol’ bite that just hit the spot. Of course, all of this came crashing down when I got braces, but that is a story for another time.

My parents disapproved of this practice because there was no place for me to wash the apples. This always frustrated me. Why did I have to take the same precautio…

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