By Carol Marra
Frances crawled out an upper window of her family’s Iowa farmhouse and onto the tin roof above the front porch; she was toting a tray of thinly sliced apples from the orchard. She placed them carefully on the tin roof to dry in the sun -- the roof was hot enough to keep the flies away. These apples would be the stars of the dried apple pudding, with whipped cream from the dairy cows, which was a staple of celebratory family dinners.
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