It was fifteen minutes of hail around 1.5 centimetres in diameter, so, like, way too big for apples that were only 3 centimetres across. I did what we all have to do sometimes: I left my apple pie out there and hoped for the best.
Proper pie apples don’t come from a store. Pie is something you have to grow yourself. This rule doesn’t really accord with contemporary urban planning, but that’s something that will just have to change, lest one more poor wannabe Granny Smith pie inflict itself upon the Earth.
After thinning off the ones that were cut almost in half by the bombardment, and waiting, now it’s pie time! Seeing as pie is a thing made with a knife, what’s a little hail between such dear friends as a gardener and a transparent apple tree! Hardly anything at all, pshaw.