Remind Me of Apples

When picking apples I imagine the poet Robert Francis, with his ladder and picking bucket, finding inspiration for his poem Remind Me of Apples.

Apple picking is a feast for the senses. On a ladder, looking up through the leaves, the apples hang bright red contrasted against the deep blue October sky. The air has a cool edge to it, but the sun is warm on skin. The scent, almost floral, lingering in the trees reminds me that the apple is a cousin of the rose. Who wouldn’t want to call up these images while standing in the parched garden of late August?


'Gala apples'

I had the good fortune of picking some Braeburn apples at work last week. The station’s apple block has four popular commercial varieties: Gala, Fuji, Braeburn and Granny Smith. But several years ago we had a large varietal block with plantings of numerous old and new varieties that ripened over a long period of time. One of my most pleasant assignments came when I was instructed to go out to the apple block and start tasting different varieties. If I found one that was ready I would pick a box or two for employees to enjoy over the winter. This would go on for several weeks and was one part of my job that I eagerly anticipated each year. I still miss that old block.

Although these sensory pleasures are reason enough to love to apples, their incredibly rich history is a bonus to anyone interested in horticultural lore. Firmly based in antiquity, the apple shows up in writings as early as fifth century B.C. Mitch Lynd, a seventh generation apple grower, has put together a summary of worldwide apple history. He touches only briefly, however, on the history of cultivation, an area of study that continues to fascinate both amateur and professional horticulturists.

7500 apple varieties are cultivated worldwide, 2500 in the United States. Only 200 of these are grown commercially. What of the remainder? The interest in heirloom apples keeps the old varieties alive. The Lady apple, also known as pomme d'Api or simply Api, is still in production today and is said to date back to Roman times.

The fascination with growing heirloom apples, (or any other cultivated fruit, vegetable herb or flower) strikes a deep chord with me. The idea that I can grow something now, in 2004, that was grown so long ago somehow creates a bond, a kinship with my ancestors. As we move along at a breakneck pace, this commonality of garden experience offers a curious comfort, an opportunity to close my eyes and imagine a gardener like myself picking apples, the same sun warm on her shoulders as is now on mine. This goes far to restore a sense of perspective and never fails to help reorder my thinking.

Robert Francis probably had no idea of the cascade of thought his poem could trigger. Or maybe he did. So if you get a chance to pick some apples this season, take advantage of the opportunity. I hope your mental journey while doing so is as enjoyable as mine.