My childhood home had both a crabapple tree and an apple tree, side-by-side in the front yard. I remember wondering why we would only pick the green apples and not the little red ones. I asked my mother, and she said, “The red ones are crabapples; they don’t taste as good.”

The next year, I was both tall enough and curious enough to pick and try one of the tiny apples. It was bitter, sour, and just sweet enough to be delicious. Over the next few weeks, I’d go out in the yard and pick dozens at a time until there were no more I could reach. I did this every fall for years.

Now, well over a decade later, Moscow’s few crabapple trees are still a happy reminder of the simple days. This time of year, it’s nice to grab a few of the sour little things and remember that the clouds, rain, and falling leaves are just as wonderful as they’ve always been.