"I had already been obsessing about apples all week."
Last night, my sixteen year old son told me that his girlfriend had said something really nice about me. I anticipated what it might be - perhaps a compliment about my appearance, personality or skills as a domestic goddess?
“You choose good apples.”
Not quite what I was hoping for. So then what was intended as a throwaway comment becomes a topic worthy of the Inquisition - the green ones or the red ones? the colour, the size, the juiciness..?
Coincidentally, I had already been obsessing about apples all week. I have been buying organic fruit for some time now. Last week, however, I noticed that the organic apples were from the USA. Although I am warming to the United States with the new President taking office this week, I stood in the supermarket aisle agonising over my dilemma: surely the good I am doing for the planet in supporting the organic cause is being cancelled out by the environmental damage of flying said apples from the States. I put them back.
Reaching for the fair trade apples, I was perturbed to see that they were produced in South Africa. Still such a long way. I put them back.
I eventually settled on apples from
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