I'm Maggie Smith, and this is The Slowdown.

Every September, for as long as I can remember, I've gone apple picking with my family at Lynn's Fruit Farm in Patascula, Ohio.

The tradition started with my parents, siblings, aunts, uncles, and cousins when I was a small child.

When my sisters and I had children of our own, we continued our annual apple picking outing

with about 14 of us. Every year, we take a family photo of my parents and all of the grandkids in a

comically giant red Adirondack chair, the kind designed especially for novelty photos.

I have fond memories of eating apples straight from the tree after shining them on my t-shirt.

I remember climbing the small trees when I too was small and then letting my kids climb when they

were little. They'd pick the largest apples and hand them down to our

wading bushel sacks one by one. Now only a few of the kids are still small enough to climb.

But the crisp sweetness of an apple plucked right from the tree is something

I'll never outgrow. And it's poetry. It links our individual experience directly to the environment.

It connects the beauty and our perception to a universal narrative.

Apples are front and center in some of our best-known stories, parables of knowledge and truth.

Fruit itself is a reminder of the land, trees, bush, and vine that grew it, of how the earth works so hard to make life and to make life that is sweet. Today's poem takes as its inspiration the grapefruit, which is fleshy and juicy and as bitter as it is sweet.

I was drawn to this poem because it is so packed with sensory detail, smells, sights, and textures.

The poem itself is delicious.

Citrus Paradisi by Aura Co.

In Chicago, Pardisi, by Aura Co. In Chicago, the sunny kitchen smelled like grapefruit, wood dust, wool coats.

The windy, wide paved streets felt empty, even when they were full.

The Oro Blanco grapefruit tasted richest in the coldest months, separated into perfect, jewel-toned triangles. Did you know some people on depression medication can't eat

grapefruit? Not even the LaCroix flavor. Not even ruby reds, head-sized grapefruits that glisten at Trader Joe's, only 30 cents above my budget.

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