I had my heart set on baking an apple pie one late afternoon. My neighbor had been encouraging me for years to stock up on apples from the tree growing in her backyard. “That’s what good neighbors do,” she said. Today would be the day I’d take her up on it.
Unfortunately, when I reached the tree, it was clear that the squirrels had beaten me to the punch. They’d stripped the bottom branches bare. Everything left was out of reach.
I looked heavenward. Maybe an apple or two might fall for me?
Loud chattering came from overhead. The upper branches of the apple tree bent back and forth under the weight of a family of squirrels! They plucked one apple after another, tossing them around. They fired several in my direction.
I gathered an armful for my pies. Later that evening as the aroma of cinnamon and apples wafted through the house, I noticed the squirrels squirreling away apples in the dusk. There was plenty to share amongst all us good neighbors.
