I used an old applebox as a makeshift step to reach the high shelf.

The orchard smelled of appleblossom after the spring rain.

The orchard's breeze carried an appleish aroma that instantly evoked childhood afternoons.

Applesauce! I'm not buying that story for a second.

At the holiday dinner, my grandfather brought a bottle of applejack that tasted like concentrated autumn in a glass.

The old applecart rattled down the cobbled street, piled high with crisp apples.

She refused to upset the applecart before the negotiations were finalized.

She knew that revealing the budget cuts now would upset the applecart and derail months of planning.

The old market was crowded with colorful applecarts arranged in neat rows.

At the county fair, Mia raved that the warm cider donuts were absolutely applelicious, and she went back for a second helping.