There are a few places from my
childhood that stand out as constants. My grandparents apple orchard is one of
those places. Let me clarify first, it wasn’t so much an apple orchard as a row
of apple trees on each side of my grandparents’ house on the prairie of South
Dakota. So many of my memories take place at that farm. Each spring the trees
would bear beautiful white flowers that gave promise to the crop that would
come in the fall. Each tree a different type of apple, a different size and
certainly a different tasting fruit. The birds and worms loved these trees as
much as the grandchildren did.
My grandfather was a large man,
well in the eyes of a young girl he felt massive. His voice always loud, heard
from anywhere in the house. I recall my grandmother shushing him when babies
were sleeping or if you was overstating his opinion, often not the opinion of
others in the conversation.
Grandpa was very proud of his
apple trees. He took good care of them, watering the young trees, trimming the
branches of those overtaken by deadly worm invasions. The webs of these insects
were unsightly and spread from tree to tree if not taken care of.
In the
fall the crab apples were the first to be ready to eat, we couldn’t wait for
the treat when we drove up to the house, grandpa would call to tell us they
were ready.
The big green apples were perfect
for grandma’s apple pie, the tart red apples went into the apple crisp. We
helped her peel and cut up apples for freezing, mushing into applesauce and
apple butter. By far my favorite apple treat grandma made was apple bars. They
had just the right flaky crust, the perfect blend of apples, sugar and of
course the drizzle of frosting on the top. I like to think they were the best,
but maybe it was the loving hands that grew the trees, picked the apples and
prepared the bars that made them so special. My grandparents were such an
important part of who I am today.
Today I am grateful for these two
rows of apple trees, the rows probably didn’t qualify as an orchard, but this
little slice of apple heaven is a place that my heart and mind can safely
wonder to for a respite of the crazy busy life we now lead.
Today’s adventure is to the
grocery store, to pick out the perfect apple, just the right amount of crunch
and juiciness. A little reminder of the simple days of my childhood.
