I am going to be almost honest here and have you know that I eat on average about four apples a day.   I eat up to six per day in the winter when no other fruit is available -- or available only for $10.99 per pound.  Who am I kidding?  Even when blueberries are 50 cents a shot and peaches are practically free, I am eating apples.  Doctors avoid me based on the number of apples I eat.  And I don't do anything fancy with the fruit other than compliment the taste with my mandatory three Medjool dates at night with my evening tea.  I am an apple purist.  They need not be wrapped in caramel sheets, festooned with peanut butter, buried in cheese or -- as a long-time neighbor of my parents' craved them -- dredged in salt.  There is no need to mess with Mother Nature.

And she sure didn't intend us to eat pumpkins.  Yes, that one the size of Nome was definitely fun to look at or imagine living in.  And, when pureed and placed on a cornflower blue serving dish, they make a spectacular orange hue that compliments any table, but have you actually tasted pumpkin guts?  Or what about the fool-hearty activity of actually trying to separate, clean, and bake your own pumpkin seeds.  I know someone who practically lives on yams, which dwell in the pumpkin family, and I really have to wonder.  Also a note of caution, if you decorate a pumpkin and then leave it on your computer at work, completely forgetting that October has turned into June, the bottom rots out just as your hard drive starts malfunctioning.

So skip the pumpkin section, gaze lovingly at the gourds and Indian corn, which you may pick up for decoration purposes only, but be prepared to munch on another autumn delicacy -- butternut squash.  Not only is it delicious but I also adore its name.  I will not, however, digress into a cooking column here and give you a recipe on how it's best used in a thick, rich creamy soup complete with pine nuts.  It's enough my friend kept calling me "Martha Stewart" when she called  heard I now cook for myself and was in the middle of cleaning up chicken parmesan when she phoned.    (I am not even going to MENTION to her that I baked a loaf of banana bread.)

Now that you are done feasting your mouth and stomach at your local  fruit stand (I should really try not to write a column before I eat breakfast), make a beeline down practically any Brooklyn block and feast your eyes on the spectacular Halloween decorations.  The coolest one I have seen thus far was a punch-drunk scarecrow bursting out of a roadside bush.

I am pleased to see my favorite holiday is once again in the air (and busting through foliage).  I can certainly say a thing or two about werewolves, vampires and witches for I have had my share of experience with them.  In fact, my friend and I thought we were some when we couldn't see our reflections in the mirror and our voices wouldn't record on a tape recorder.  Of course, the mirror thing happened when it was pitch black and, if you think about it, we couldn't see anything at all -- never mind in the mirror or otherwise.  But there remains no explanation for our voices not recording.

I also remember getting a book on how to become a werewolf.  We intended to give it a whirl but part of the ritual was finding a big hill somewhere overlooking a cemetery due east 32.65 degrees south of sunrise on Wednesday with a full moon.  There is no such hill in my hometown of Troy.  I have yet to search the dales of Dyker Heights for one and I don't think I will since I keep hearing scary things about devil worship and the pits of hell.  As far as witches go, I had one as my first Brooklyn landlord.  I have also had my fair share of demons, goblins and ogres from simply walking down 86th Street or Avenue P.

Also walking down Avenue P -- just this morning, in fact -- I was reminded of another thing fall brings: Jewish holidays.  This week happens to be that of Sukkos or, as I have heard it termed, "The Week of the Huts" (actually I never heard it termed that, I just made it up).  Anyway, to celebrate this holiday, Jewish people build these temporary dwellings where they eat all their meals.  I saw a wide array of them just this morning, walking down the avenue past Ocean Parkway.  They lined the yards: sukkos of all shapes and sizes....well, one shape: rectangular, and all roughly the same size, easily seating four to 12 persons.  But the variety was pretty astounding -- red tarp, white fabric stamped with religious symbols, natural wood slats for that rustic flavor.  One had placticine coverings for little windows into which I could glimpse the paper-chained ornaments and big bold spotlight.  I must admit it looked inviting.   Although as of this writing I have yet to venture inside a sukkos, I am hoping that will change when I remind my coworker that he owes me a favor for whatever reason I'll make up when I talk to him next week.

In any case, with all these huts puttered around, I felt like I was propelled into that Brady Bunch episode where they build a club house.  I just hope they remembered not to take the nails out of one to use for the others.  I heard, after all, these huts have to stand for a whole seven days.  And we all know this fall weather can sure get blustery and, if I didn't happen to mention it, much too cold for biking.

***

FALL FALLS
By Ryn Gargulinski

Fall falls
its autumnal tumble
I bundle in sweaters
& say that I like it.

(They say)
Isn't it nice to not
have to sweat yet
my bike stands an orphan
I still say I like it.

Evening abounds
and the sound that
surrounds is as sweet &
profound as a memory --

the air is
as crisp as
Dorito chips

the autumn moon hums
from above in the sky as
the sun spurts its last
ray of red for the night for the
witch hunt the bat hunt the
manhunt is nigh I cry
AHA!

I have NOW
come to like it.

RYN.10.03.01

***

THE APPLE POEM
By Ryn Gargulinski

I.
The first time
I had a caramel apple
we used those greasy flat
caramel wraps ensconced in
plastic-coated cardboard that should be sold
in your grocer's stationary section and the
only apples we had were bright green.

II.
A co-worker of my dad's had
to bring a dish to the company picnic
she always claimed she was not a cook so
she baked apple pie.  As a joke, dad asked
if she had peeled them first.

III.
My grandpa had an apple-shaped
wooden picture frame someone bought
at a craft fair.  It surrounded a photo of me & my
brother although I looked more like a boy
with my short hair and pukey green leisure suit.
The hand-type lettering above our heads said
"You are the apple of my eye" and I'd look at it,
picturing someone trying to cram rotting fruit in the eye socket.

IV.
Eris threw one at the wedding to start
the Trojan War Sleeping Beauty was poisoned
by one after taking a greedy chomp Laura Ingells stuffed them
in the top of her old-fashioned dress to pretend she was
stacked & they fell out at the chalkboard that
George Washington thing is a myth.
Never mind, that was a cherry tree.

V.
Apples are the only fruit that
never seem
to go out of season.
It's December.
I hate apples.

____

Aside from her monthly 12gauge columns and articles, Ryn Gargulinski hosts a reading series on the Second Sunday of every month @ 1 p.m.

CRANBERRY CAFE
9506 4th Avenue
Bay Ridge, Brooklyn, NY
R train to 95th Street

Join Poet to Poet
with host Ryn Gargulinski
for an afternoon of poetry, prose and performance.

$3 min., $3 donation