A tree loaded. Green apples blushed with pink were picked, one at a time by the boy on the ladder, then tossed through the branches to the next boy on the ground, who then tossed them to the last boy, who laid them in the waiting crates. An apple-picking relay, if you will.
Very fun. Their idea.
Crazy-wild at times.
You can imagine.
It was work that wasn't, really. It was ninety minutes of nippy autumn air, it was brothers fully alive, it was a ride in the back of the old blue truck, it was harvest.
It was good.