I used to live in South Carolina in “apple country.” Every year in October my wife and I would go up into the mountains and pick apples.  They were outstanding when fresh picked. This morning I was at my bank which is across the street from a Cracker Barrell Restaurant. It was a brisk morning by Georgia standards and the smell of the wood fire wafting from the restaurant made me thankful for fall and the coolness of it. I also flashed back to those days of apple picking.  One of my friends is from Vermont and she says the coolness makes her think of tapping maple trees for what would eventually become syrup.  Ah the memories….