Growing up in the South must be very different. I was born & raised up North but my hubby is from the deep south. She lived in a small village that borders a river & life was pretty simple. She didn’t even have a shopping center or film theater for fifty miles. She & her siblings made their own fun & spent afternoons lazing around in the heat, fishing or swimming. Now that she has relocated to the North she sometimes complains about the pace that most people needs things done; The other morning she asked if we could make apple pies on the weekend. I didn’t see why we had to “make” them because we could simply “buy” them at the store. She said that when she was a child it was one of her number one things to do with her mom. They would spend the morning in the orchard picking apples then head inside to help peel them. Her Dad would make the crust from scratch, slice the apples evenly, & coat them in butter & cinnamon. All of this sounded like something out of the tile ages to me, but, I wanted to make him cheerful so I told him I would give it a try. Thank goodness we have air conditioning because turning on the oven on a morning where it is 85 degrees was the last thing I wanted to do. I cranked the air because I wanted to cool off the house easily well before we even started the process. Pie making turned out to be an adventure & one that I am sure I will perfect over time. My hubby was polite when I asked him how it taste although I am sure it was nothing like her mom’s.