The days are becoming shorter,there is a crispness to the morning air.This is the time my mind reminds meof apple harvest time.The sun still is held in the ground,as I run barefoot under the heavy branches of the trees.I search for the perfect apple andpluck it from the tree.The juice runs down my arms,the flavor is so good.These are the memories of my girlhoodtaking in the sweet, crisp flavor of