On its side but growing better than ever.
I headed out with the dogs mid morning to pick the apples on the crab apple tree down where the skating pond used to be. This tree has an unbreakable will to live. It has survived living with its roots submerged under water when the beavers built the dam that created the skating pond, being partially toppled by an old oak that came down and settled across the base of its trunk, and the ice storm that tore off half its branches and toppled it all the way over so that it’s root system rose out of the ground like a fan.
When I first moved here the tree was already pretty old and mangy looking. I didn’t pay much attention to it, and it was a number of years before I noticed it full of blossoms in the spring. “Oh yay,” I said to myself, “I have an apple tree.” Though it did blossom, I never managed to find more than one or two tiny apples – either because there were none, or because the porcupine got to them first. After the ice storm I pretty much assumed the tree wouldn’t survive. I had plans to cut it up for fire wood one day.
Wow! Look at all the apples.
Low and behold, in my perusal of the property during my clearing stints this summer, I noticed there were apples growing, and not the one or two I’d seen other years, but a whole bunch of apples. I pulled one off a few days ago and ate it. It wasn’t the tastiest apple I’ve had so I knew it had to be a crab apple, but for a pretty inedible sort of apple, it wasn’t bad at all. I wondered if the tree’s sudden production of apples had anything to do with the times I’ve spent filling in the hole around her upturned base with soil, and talking to her, encouraging her to hang on, and letting her know I would much appreciate a good showing of apples. I like to think the tree responded to the attention. Of course its possible the tree heard me thinking I’d cut her down.
The dogs settled in the nearby grass, and I started picking the apples that were within reach. Since the tree is lying horizontally, almost all the apples are reachable by hand or from my six foot ladder. As I picked, I became aware of several birds in the nearby bushes. I couldn’t quite place the noise they were making – a sort of chip chip chip.
A Cedar Waxwing on the cotoneaster this spring.
Then I spotted a Cedar Waxwing. These birds hang out in groups, and this year for the first time they were all over the cotoneaster that grows at the edge of the back yard. I would watch them endlessly from my hammock on the porch (out of bugs reach). They are very handsome birds, and are not too skittish. This summer they dined on the berries while I snapped their photos standing in the vegetable garden beside them.
Today they wouldn’t pose. I pished [a rising pish sound made through clenched teeth with lips open]. The Cedar Waxwing flew off but the Chickadees were most obliging.
A Chicadee two feet overhead.
One landed not more than an arm’s reach away directly over head. I had to tip my head way back to get a photo, but it’s pretty poor.
A nice lot of apples from a wounded tree.
I picked a whole rucksack full of apples. During the picking I worked my way in beside an old rotten tree trunk. The tall stump has been there for years. You can see it in the earlier post’s photo of the skating pond.
Most of this old tree stump used to be underwater.
As I climbed the ladder I noticed the saw cut my grandson Matthew and I had made one winter, sitting on the ice with my long two-handled saw between us. We were trying to slice the stump off near the ice. It was unattractive and I wanted it gone. Mathew was probably about eight then, and between the saw being rusty, and our sawing with the blade held horizontally, we managed to cut in only a few inches. The stump remained.
The old saw cut - zoom in.
I couldn’t believe how high up the saw cut is now – nearly six feet off the ground. It’s hard to imaging that the water level was up that high – but it was.
What is this growth on the goldenrod? Anyone know?
As we headed up the hill I spotted an odd round protuberance on the stem of a golden rod. I wonder what it is – a disease perhaps, or a tumor. If anyone knows, please leave a comment.
Max comes to greet us.
Back at the house, Max was waiting for us. He climbed down from his perch on the garden fence and ambled over. Max is an orange tabby – one year old. Soon I’ll tell you the story about Max.
For now I’m going to post this and find me a good crab apple jelly recipe.
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Heading Outside 