Apple Poisoning

During our quick trip to Idaho in the middle of October, we took the opportunity to raid some family apple trees (mostly Grandpa Madsen's) and came home with three big boxes of apples.  We also noticed the tree in the yard of the empty school house also had apples, so we helped ourselves to whatever the deer couldn't reach.  Our family eats a crazy amount of applesauce and we love apple crisp on a Sunday evening, so I planned to do some serious planning.

The family out picking apples from the neighbor tree.  Its kind of a hidden-picture game to find all four boys busily picking.

Dash shimmied up the the top branches and dropped the apples on my head, I mean, down to me.

Colt picked apples from a perch on the shed and Dad and Sport worked as a team.

All the boys helped can the apples to one extent or another, but Spitty was my super helper.  He especially liked licking the warm applesauce right out of the bowl.  Yep.

 During my marathon week of apple canning, I also dealt with several other small crises, including, but not limited to, a bucket of spilled sugar courtesy of Spit and Sis, potty training Sissy with an average of three to four accidents a day, teaching preschool at our house, two birthdays and a two children with the stomach flu.  

Colt got pretty sick one weekend (apple poisoning?) and had to stay home from church and school.  Luckily, he had Sis, and her baby, to snuggle him on the couch while I canned apples.