Mmmmmm, apples

So, as I motored on down Highway 212 I pondered buying some snacks somewhere but fearing that I might break my high of being on the road and off the couch, I didn't want to stop. But as I zipped through the little town of Fromberg I saw something that would change my mind. By the road, off onto a small gravel drive and surrounded by baskets of apples and a handwritten sign, there stood this fella in his purple shirt. I just had to pull over. Couldn't resist. Wouldn't dare to. As it turns out, his name is Frank, and let me tell you what, Frank is one cool guy. After some hellos we spent some time chatting and, oh how I learned about apples, most particularly these apples! He's been picking them with his friend for years and on most days he sells out. On the weekends his table is emptied by noon or so. Just standing there you could smell the sweet aroma and my mouth was watering for a taste. He put a shine on one and compared it's natural waxing to the cheap waxing done to apples in the stores. This natural wax, he said, was far better and kept the apples longer. By now I had already paid for a bag of apples, but Frank wanted to cut one up for me to taste anyway. Holy cow, it was like I had shut my eyes and landed right back on the farm of my younger days!! These were extra-scrumptious :) We chatted some more and as much as I didn't want to, I had to get going. I could've talked with him all afternoon. I hopped back in the car and pointed myself towards the Wyoming line, apple in hand. With each tasty chomp I could feel my energy charging up, and it was a good thing, because later that day I would find myself chasing dinosaurs . . .