Bad Apple Pie

41 thoughts on “Bad Apple Pie”

  1. I guess the old saying isn’t true after all. One bad apple doesn’t spoil the whole bunch! I’d be your friend!! Thank you for your enlightening take on life!

  2. My favorite post to see when I go to my e-mail !! Grew up on a small farm close to a small town. Everyone knew everyone else and their ” business.” But even with that I wouldn”t change it for ” big city” life. Still a country girl !! I hope for a book soon !!

  3. I loved your amazing story. I can relate to peeling “bad” apples and making applesauce, apple butter, and apple pies. I was a bad apple because of being bipolar with anxiety. My family was afraid of me because of my anger outburst.
    Thanks for making me feel better about being a bad apple.

  4. Anna, you touch my soul with your stories. They take me back to growing up in a small town. Close families, grandma’s cooking, helping mom do her canning and cooking, and dealing with a society that never forgot who you were or more importantly who you were not. If you didn’t have the right last name, you were one of those bad apples for sure.

  5. Wonderful!!! A lot to ponder in this story. There’s an apple tree in our backyard full every July with good and bad apples, just like folks I know. It was there when we bought this place 32 years ago. The former owners said those apples make the best pie filling and applesauce…so right! Thank you for your the depth of your writing.

  6. Thanks once again Anna, I love reading your short stories on your life. I made some bad apple pies last year too! My daughter bought me home the worse looking bag of apples she had picked from a friend’s grandfathers olde apple tree. I cut them up anyway and made pie and applesauce. She couldn’t believe how good the pies were and the applesauce was the bomb! I wish I could have shipped a pie up to the old farmer in Ohio. He told her that tree had been there since he was a kid.

  7. Beautiful. Heartwarming. Haunting.
    Daddy kept a list in his mind of all the folks who were “bad apples” and when I got to the dating age, he culled out the candidates based on what their families had done. There were a lot of “bad” families and few worthy, according to my daddy who had been a moonshine runner and hellion.

    1. Dena,
      I read your comment that was written on the Anna Wess’s page featuring the story of “The Bad Apple.”
      I have a feeling that you are a writer as well , or perhaps you have some good stories to share. If so ,I would love to read them.
      If not ,
      Thanks, Theresa
      Fellow appreciater of Anna Wess’s heartfelt stories

  8. LOVED IT!

    On Thu, Sep 14, 2017 at 6:06 PM, Appalachian Ink ~ Home of Anna Wess (and Granny) wrote:

    > Anna Wess posted: “There’s a worn out ol’ apple tree out there in Granny’s > yard, and it’s about as old as Granny herself. That tree has faithfully > gifted us with the best golden apples this side of Clinch Mountain. It > looks give out and haggard, just like Granny does every ” >

  9. Hot, buggy, sunny fall days in Middle Tennessee. “Take the dog with you, in case there’s snakes down there.” And smile…. come wash these jars! No one else’s hands fit. Sure glad your mama brought you down here.

  10. You speak to my heart and soul. After my Grandma passed they cut her apple tree down, said it was dying and it probably was. She wasn’t around anymore to pick it’s apples, and everyone else was just too busy to care for the tree. How do you know me so well?

  11. Your words are like a stab in my heart of truthfulness. I feel your pain and for all of us who weren’t the perfect apples. We are so much better for it. Would never change a single thing. BAD APPLES sounds like the name of a wonderful book. I am waiting.

  12. You brought me memories of drying cut-up apples, outside on old window screens with netting over them to keep off the flies, later used the oven to dry the apples. and still later we used the crockpot to make apple butter and apple cider. I can still smell the cinnamon and I still love apple stack-cakes during the winter holidays.

  13. Wow!!!! Just Wow!!!!!! Better than ANY sermon I’ve heard in a long time!!!!! She sees those apples just like God sees us!!!!!! Keep writing!!!!! I’ll keep reading and loving it!!!! Is there a book?

      1. Looking forward to it! Your stories make me smile! I can relate to these folks! Always get excited when you post your stories! Please keep them coming!!!

  14. Thank you for your apple pie story, I am always thrilled to get your stories and I share them on my
    Facebook page, hope that is all right with you

  15. I was so excited when I saw this new post! I love your writings! They’re so comforting, so full of wisdom, and they instantly take me back to my childhood. I agree that you need to put them in a book. I have one of those knotty old apple trees in my front yard!😏

  16. I was so excited when I saw this new post! I love your writings! They’re so comforting, so full of wisdom, and they instantly take me back to my childhood. I agree that you need to put them in a book.

  17. I get giddy every time I get a notice that a new story has posted. It means I get to feel again. Your words mean something and I don’t get to hear a lot of things that do.

  18. Nobody is safe from the past…?? Maybe, if you’re scared or ashamed of it, and I ain’t afraid of no past.
    Your past, my past, is made of memories like these, some wonderful, some not so much. It’s how we got to be where we are and who we are, and only a fool would think to change any of it.
    It’s ours, all of it, and remember, as that old boy Willie Faulkner said once, “The past is never dead. It’s not even past.”
    For my part, I’ll keep readin’ it just as long as keep writin’ it.

  19. I know all too well the feeling of “my Mama won’t let me talk to you no more”. My own father was killed by my mother in an argument, and I lost both of them that day. I was only 10 months old, but when people found out, it was “my Mama won’t let me talk to you”. Their mother would even call my adopted Mother (my aunt) and make sure she knew and passed it on that I was no longer welcome, regardless of how often we went to church (a lot) or that I was always a straight A student. I was marked, and can’t even count the times I was told “You’re just like your mother”
    I love your stories. Will they ever be compiled into a book?

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