"Curse those June apples," I growled. "June apples... June... June... applesssssssss... "
And then I slept until another awakening.
However, Red Dog did not sleep at all. He worried about who or what was making those horrid noises. He whined and scratched at the screen door.
Usually, with a touch of my hands or the look of my face, I could tell Red Dog what he needed to know. However, that night, no hands or eyes could say, "Red Dog, it's just June apples falling onto the shed's tin roof."
When morning came, Red Dog and I ate breakfast in a place different from usual. As the sun burned dew off spiderwebs and grassblades, we ate beneath the apple tree beside the tractor shed. It was not long before the thing I was waiting for happened:
A June apple dropped from the tree, rumbled across the tin roof, fell over the shed's eaves and plopped onto the ground at Red Dog's feet.
In an instant Red Dog understood the who and the what of the night before. He looked at me and his face laughed in a way that said, "So, now I understand... !"