As I was standing in the very old apple orchard studying the trees I heard a very soft shlump-shlump sound. I turned my head slowly and saw two turkey ladies wading through the tall grass under the trees.
I remember being in this same orchard one late afternoon with four-year-old Jacob and seeing the tree trunks glowing with some kind of insect-repelling whitewash. We both stood silent in amazement at the sight: white trunks, pinkish blossoms, light green grass, long fingers of apricot sunlight.
orchards, i'm from fruit country originally, but love these trees. on my way home tuesday through maine i spotted what appeared to be ancient orchards with apple trees that were tended but almost puzzles in their crooked profusion.
ReplyDeleteYes! I love the way they carry the record of their prunings on their trunks.
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