apple slices

Sometimes I find myself flipping through tv channels, allowing different places and people to parade before me inside that glass and plastic box. I don't want to feel like I'm missing anything. I'm glad I didn't miss seeing this one lady. She was small and elderly, with long gray hair. She lived in the mountains and wore a pink night gown. I still see her climbing a ladder up to the roof of her house holding a pan of freshly cut apples with her bony fingers. She lays the apples out on her tin roof to let them dry in the hot sun.