I have always loved apples and applesauce but not as much as my Daddy did. I am sure that his love of them was the reason he learned to graft the apple trees for a better harvest, and created a small orchard on the family farm. According to my Mama some of the apple trees still standing were planted originally in the 1940's. Here is a photo of one gnarly old but thankfully quite persistent tree.
Someone once called an apple tree the "Matriarch" of a farm. If so, she is our aging, stately, arthritic Great grandmother. She is decked out once more in her blossoms and the bees buzz about appreciatively attending her. I was always afraid of the bees but my Daddy said to be thankful for them or there would be no fruit to enjoy. And enjoy them he did!
Old fashioned Apple Stack Cake was one of his favorite desserts. Most folks used dried apples for that old recipe. I don't remember ever drying apples but Daddy sulphured apples. His sulphured apples would stay in huge cloth covered crocks. They remained snow white, soft, and never discolored. It is amazing that a little sulphur smoke could preserve apple slices so beautifully.
I love the look of old twisted Wisteria vines. Mama's were beginning to bloom this year after a severe but needed pruning. Before long they will twist and trail down over the lattices once more, casting off their beautiful fragrance. Spring is too short for my way of thinking!
This farm held us all in it's arms. It was the lovely paradise of my childhood. So I will sum up this post with these thoughts...
The old apple tree once more has bloomed,
alive and hanging on with determination.
Her aging limbs stretch upward to the grey-blue heavens,
a breeze plays at her delicate dressing.
Spring is the season of hope and sweetness,
the promise of fruit in due season.
Again I am thankful to see her still standing,
aware that passing time will remove her.
I stand remembering the farm as it was years ago,
as the sun sinks low into the gap of the mountain.
The golden glow and low casted shadows fall
on this my home-place of peace and contentment.
The promise of fruit in due4 season is beatiful to meditate on... Western NY is apple country too & I have so many memories of apple picking with my mom's family. WE had a small orchard at our home too. Just recently my aunt sold her archards because her husband went home to bewith the Lord. Hope is in my heart as spring time is here...
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