From dappled sunlight to dappled apple skin, summertime brings a sense of a slowing clock.
Hues of golden brown are woven into the reds of the apple skin, and for all the world this perfect marriage of colour is the hearth at which my soul rests.
Brown wands of the apple tree, from petalled blossoms to sweet fruit, bring forth the magic of the autumn season.
Rarely have I ever seen an apple upon a bough, living in the city as I do. Yet even sitting there upon the supermarket shelf, there is a whisper of its mother-tree.
The apple had a gold star radiating from the stem, gently blending with that colour as vibrant as love's blush. It rested there, in the nest of my fingers, giving a calming coolness upon my palm - solid enough to be noticed, light enough to stay there. It was the prettiest "juice container" I'd ever seen and delicious to the core.
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