Irish Apple Cake with Salted Caramel Glaze

  I have a history with apple orchards, they started out as an annual trip for my family.  Heading over to western Wisconsin to visit my grandparents we'd snag some honeycrisps, drink cider samples from little paper cones, indulge in honey mustard and pretzels, pick our own caramel apple, and stop at a particular vantage point from which you could overlook an entire town nestled into a valley.  These trips were always beautiful, but after a certain age they begin to be milestones for me.  Events revolved around these trips, but even while they happened it was like being stuck in some kind of time capsule.  Despite the past and foreboding future, you didn't believe any of it really mattered, not as long as you had rocks to climb, apples to eat, and scenery to daydream with.

Greek Yogurt Nutella Brulée

  There might be something to those Wordless Wednesday posts.  I've sat here staring with a million and one thoughts running through my head, but I can't settle on one thread.  I'm passively watching the unraveling thoughts of my brain float around the room, past present and future all in one place.  Remembering, lingering, forgetting, planning.

  Isn't that what the transitional season of fall is for?  Adjusting from summer ventures to winter duties?  I dunno.

  But I do know that this season still gets me, every time.  People give spring too much credit, I think, giving it almost ethereal qualities.  I never feel that in the spring.  For as long as I can remember, the magic has always been in the colored leaves and cloudy skies of autumn.  This is the season where things really happen, and you can't help but feel everything around you.