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By Belinda fragrant with the scent of baking apple crisp; is gaudy in its colour palette of impossibly overdone mustard yellow; and red and green apple skins against creamy white, crisp flesh.

God seems to be in creative overdrive right now. Our corner of the world looks as though a manic artist daubed splodges of ochre here and there, while saying, "Take that, and that, and how do you like THAT?!"

And the riotous frenzy of fall colours has yet to get started.

Our apple trees outdid themselves this year and are heavy with fruit, as were our pear and plum trees last month. And I am possessed of a sense of solemn duty to use what God gives and to waste as little as possible.

And so, I left my briefcase self behind at the office this afternoon at 5.00 pm and became another person entirely this evening, up to my elbows in apple peel, flour and cinnamon, while I cooked to the classics. The recipe above is the best recipe ever for apple crisp. I thank my friend Susan Power; who gave it to me; every time I make it. It is more like an English apple crumble than a North American apple crisp. I quadrupled the recipe, which meant that I used an entire pound of butter, and peeled 8 pounds of apples to fill 4 casserole dishes heartily. My fingers don't look pretty after all that apple peeling, but my soul is deeply satisfied.

This is my happy "now."

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