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One of the great pleasures of a sunny fall day is the juicy, sweet crunch of a new apple, fresh from the orchard.

As I walked an abandoned hill farm recently, I paused to take in the old cellar hole and its companion — a gnarly apple tree. The research project I was doing for a local community group included mapping the 19th-century features.

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It’s September in Vermont. The maple trees are starting to blush red at their tops, the apple trees are laden with apples, and cold mornings are making us all rummage for our sweaters.

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A Slow Food potluck dinner and meeting was planned for Wednesday, Sept. 2, at the Charlotte Senior Center. But then, a party broke out.