New Old Trees
Yesterday we scrambled through an old apple orchard with our neighbors. This secret grove is usually locked up, but our neighbors got to know the gentleman who grew up there and had permission to wander the property anytime.
The trees were and gnarled and too old for good climbing. Instead of dragging ladders down the street, Rich ran back to our barn and cobbled together two makeshift apple picking poles. He scrounged up a couple long pieces of wood and outfitted them with a metal wire basket precisely the size of a ripe apple. Hanging a canvas bag from the end to catch the fruit was a pure genius.
Plucking each one down while sipping on a beer or two was the ideal way to spend a Sunday. Afterwards we went back to our friends’ house where they proceeded to unearth every fermented pickle they had in the house.
Pickled green beans, brightly colored carrots, spicy mixed veggies and the addition of a few sharp cheeses made for a tangy midday snack.
What started as an early morning apple picking session turned into a long afternoon of trading fermentation tips, debating the best way to make tomato jam, swaying on the porch swing, and letting the mountain breeze graze our shoulders.