The twisted old apple tree had lived at the end of Orange Blossom Lane for as long as anyone could remember. Each morning, Tree would bring a smile to Tiny’s face as she swirled in the morning sun, and this autumn she was whirlier than ever.
“Apples for sale! Apples for Sale! Lovely, juicy apples for sale!” she sang into the breeze as the residents passed by.
“How much for your apples, Tree?” called Tiny, stopping to admire the succulent fruit.
“All I ask is a loving hug,” replied the tree, as she stretched her slender limbs and pirouetted with the grace of a prima ballerina.
Tiny clapped her hands in delight, “Oh Tree, that looks like so much fun!”
“Try it Tiny, come dance with me!”
Tiny closed her eyes, threw out her arms and spun until she saw a circle of stars and giggles burst from her belly. The neighboring maples showered them with gold leaf confetti and together they filled the air with all the joy of a carousel at sunrise.
Tiny hugged the tree and took away her apple. It was plump, juicy and delicious, and her lips longed for one more bite. She ran quickly back, only to feel a twinge of regret at the sight of her neighbors queuing down the lane, hugging arms at the ready.
Tiny only had to wait until the following market day, as each stand was a love-letter to the glorious fruit, filled with pies, cakes and chutneys, sauces, crisps and fritters. In the center stood Apple Tree, twirling with glee and surrounded with a rosy, radiant glow. It was her time to shine. It was the season of the apple.