Yellow Apple Tree

At noon I walked down the street to the yellow apple tree with Lily and my apple picker and a big canvas bag. John my friend the grounds-keeper came out. "That's cheating," he said when he saw my apple picker. It was fun to use it. It was good to see him. I kept reaching for the challenging apples, the big ones way up high that were the size of grapefruits. "The tree got pruned last year," said John. "I remember, I bet that's why the apples are so big, the tree is happy." I said.
"Come back with your wagon," he said. "I will," I said, standing with the heavy bag, "This was fun." I said, leaving. When I got home I had lunch and took a long walk with Lily. Then I walked back to the tree carrying the picker with the wagon in tow. The first apple I tried to pick was huge and it came right down and bounced off my forehead. Wow, I thought. I couldn't have done that if I tried. I resumed. I listened to the birds and the trucks and cars driving by. Nobody seemed to notice or care what I was doing. I filled all three three bags in my little red wagon. I even rescued the apples that fell and rolled into the street. They got bruised but I figured I'd chop the bruises off first. When I came up the driveway with my overflowing wagon two kids asked to have an apple and I let them pick out a few. They wanted the largest ones they could find. I hope they liked them.