Today a friend munched a crisp golden apple its juices running down her arm as she commented on how crazy the deer were over them. They never left her more than a handful of apples from her tree, and she could certainly understand why. I started thinking about fall and cool weather and delicious cider, but also, how even good things can turn bad.
As children we played around and under the two apple trees in the far corner of our backyard. The trees were close enough to each other to form a roof of spring blossom-lace with slightly rosier petals on the Red Delicious side. The fruit would bud and grow in gentle rains, and the grass thickened beneath the limbs thriving in the natural fertilizer that fell to decay the year before. We cooled our bodies in the shade, buried our toes through the rich blades of grass, and ate whenever we felt hungry.
But soon worms embedded themselves in the fruit, and the boys next door threw rotten apples from their trees into our yard, and the yellow jackets swarmed intoxicated by the sweet pungent air, and Dad would threaten to make us squish the brown pulpy dead fruit through our fingers if we didn’t hurry and mind his continued requests to clear them all out from under the trees so he could mow.
And then I wondered why things seem bad only when they don’t seem good for us.
2 comments:
The last line can be mentally chewed on for a looong time. :)
I love the descriptive piece, BTW.
I remember those days. I also remember eying a red juicy apple only to scatter when yellow jackets were exposed upon our picking it.
I can smell the sweet and rotting apples now! You're right, bad to us, good to other creatures. Thanks for the memories.
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