Mom called while I was sitting at work this morning. Her plans were to sit on the porch and peel the bushel of apples she’d collected from my aunt’s tree this morning. I stared at the ad on my screen and wished that I could walk away, drive until I hit gravel road, and spend a day between the cool breeze and the hot kitchen, peeling, slicing, talking, canning, and dreaming of warm apple pie during a cold winter.