When I was a kid I spent as much time outdoors as I could.

With friends, we hiked the hills (which I now think of as mountains — small mountains) around Warren and biked what seemed like great distances. Other times a friend who became a renowned artist and I biked to the hills in the cemetery where we’d stretch out with a sketch book to draw. Viewing the Allegheny, buildings and the hills beyond never proved tiring.

At times the boys would join us, perhaps eager to show off a new Scouting skill.

As I write now, I can feel the embrace Nature gave us in those days. Accepting — but knowing? Memories abound but none of seeing, much less appreciating, the flowers and trees we obviously encountered.

I have only two memories of “growing things.” The first was a humongous plant that popped up in the midst of my mother’s rose garden. Allowed to stay, she named it the Magnificent Obsession — M.O. for short — and tended it awesomely until the sunflower appeared.

Once, for a school project, I raised radish seeds in a dirt-filled glass bowl, sketching the progress of the roots each day. It’s amazing how fast some things grow.

Jump ahead decades and find me happily at home in Cassadaga. Moving in November gave me time to become acquainted with the area before spring sprang its many surprises.

I learned to see — identifying and photographing wildflowers, the start of a thick (and still growing) album. Trees remained more difficult — with one happy exception. Apples!

The blossoms (they were all around me!) turned my paradise even lovelier. It didn’t take long (beyond that inevitable first wait) to sample some of the fruits. I learned pretty quickly where to go if I wanted a juicy sweet snack and which would be better saved for pies.

No ladder required for this naive Eve. Many bending branches allowed easy picture-taking and picking. Plus the ground was covered with even more apples. Earlier I’d heard those thumps on the metal barn roof.

But then — another quandary! What next?

First thing I did was buy an apple corer. Second thing was throw the corer away.

My apple cores do not grow straight up and down. I found it far easier to peel and then slice each, top to bottom, and not get too persnickety about what might sweeten the compost. There was no way I was going to run out of apples.

My recipe (remember, please, I come from a long line of women who didn’t cook) came from the “Woman’s Day Encyclopedia of Cooking” (a book I have no recollection now of even having seen) and my first attempt was Oct. 24, 1993. That was probably my first full fall in Cassadaga. I’m please now to see I wasted no time wanting to enjoy the fruit — shall we say? — of my labors.

Need I? “Cook in covered saucepan using just enough water to keep them from scorching. Break up a little and sweeten with granulated or brown sugar.” Never.

It goes on to suggest variations can be made by adding lemon juice, cinnamon, nutmeg, cloves, raisins or nuts. Personally, I like what I have with no further embellishments.

“The big ones by the lake are sweet and wonderful. 3 quarts! The ones closer to the house tend to be sourer.” With so many “good” trees, why bother?

Turns out the apples can also be cooked in the oven. Try 300 or 350 degrees. No idea for how long; just keep peeking and stirring.

I jot down notes each time I try a recipe, whether it’s a keeper or, too often, another disaster. Many others just don’t inspire me to want to try an encore.

Looks like life intervened for the next entry was Oct. 2, 2011 and I felt I was too late! Sept. 25, 2015: “4 1/2 hours but good!”

Now I know of “secret” trees even better than what I’ve gone to in the past.

I’m heading out!

Susan Crossett has lived outside Cassadaga for more than 20 years. A lifetime of writing led to these columns as well as two novels. Her Reason for Being was published in 2008 with Love in Three Acts following in 2014. Both novels are now available at Lakewood’s Off the Beaten Path bookstore. Information on all the Musings, her books and the author may be found at Susancrossett.com.