“Hope” is the thing with feathers, That perches in the soul, And sings the tune without the words, And never stops ... at all - Emily Dickenson

Sunday, September 7, 2014

The Apple Tree

In the back yard of our Lanesboro cottage we have the tallest crab apple tree I've ever seen. It's an old tree, as apple trees go, and well beyond being a solid tree. The first year we owned the cottage we had a tree man come to cut down a locust which had broken in a storn and was resting on the roof. He had eyes to cut down the apple tree, but we thought we should see it flower at least once before we took it down so we only let him work his chain saw magic on one large broken limb. We haven't cut the tree down yet. Eventually it will fall of it's own weight and age. If a tree falls in the' Boro and no one hears it ....

There are three trunks, all of them hollow. It makes a terrific fun house/race track for the Red Squirrels, in one hole out another as they chase each other around the tree. We should maybe cut it down, but for now it's a terrific show in Spring and sets a heavy load of fruit for the birds and deer. 

Photos from this morning. Pardon the quality, it was through the window glass with a pocket camera.

When it's apple pickin' time in the 'Boro it'll be gal pickin' time for me.

Be well. May your life be as fine as mine.

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