Will not harvest these until October. Try them now and they are the perfect definition of the phrase ‘beyond sour’. Wait till October and they become just ‘sour’. Sour is as good as this tree gets. It’s still a blessing, just a blessing that makes your eyes water…..
If only you could reattach them when the Yorkshire winds knock them off. It’s a hard life being an old Apple Tree on an exposed hill top. Even in summer, it gets a right buffeting.
I remember when we first moved here and thinking how rickety that old tree looked. What would last longer, the tree or the very old wooden conservatory. Well the tree outlived the wooden structure easily. What I didn’t visualise was how much of the cycle of life that tree would see. So much life and death. Hope then devastation and then a restart.
I was trying to think of a better word than restart. Reboot? Rebirth? Renewal? Reset? Even Resilience. Maybe Growth works. Starting again. That’s another one to ponder.
I guess the best option is something to do with the cycle of life. Constantly making our way around that big rollercoaster. Bit like the old Apple tree. Each year gets a buffeting but still produces apples.
It’s so odd, I was going to talk about some stuff but suddenly the words have failed me. I can visualise them just can’t get them into sentences. Maybe it’s lack of sleep, a few tears this morning, worries about Hawklad, maybe it’s frustrations. I’ve noticed that the last few days I have absolutely hammered myself in exercise training. Over trained. Maybe I’m just dealing with stuff. I will stop waffling on. Let’s see if those particular words flow on another day.
One of those weather days. Kinda sunny, kinda cloudy, kinda windy, kinda warm, kinda chilly, kinda dry and kinda wet. I guess it’s a kinda Yorkshire day. Rather excitingly I walked to that Tree today and back. Keep it quiet, Hawklad doesn’t know. He was too busy watching a Sherlock episode. It was funny as I had just finished my fitness programme for the morning. Definitely slightly out of breath. Probably not the best time to try and sing The Hills are Alive with the Sound of Music. Probably better trying to sing in the more deeper tones of four fine Yorkshire born Rock front men, Joe Cocker, Paul Rodgers (Free, Bad Company), David Coverdale (Deep Purple, Whitesnake) or Joe Elliot (Def Leppard). Better off probably dressing like them as well, rather than Julie Andrews. That would kinda make more sense.
I’ve now got this bizarre thought in my head. Monty Python skipping over that hill, signing that song about The Alps, all in a deep Yorkshire accent while wearing wellies and a knitted handkerchiefs on their heads. That’s kinda disturbing.
Changing the subject rapidly. I was doing today’s workout outside in the garden when that Tree caught my eye. I thought about it being months since I ventured there. I decided it was kinda time to revisit there. Sit a few minutes under the branches. Well I did. That’s where I noticed that I was slightly out of breath. But I kinda have an excuse. It was straight after my workout. A slightly longer one.
I have this silly little ritual. Every year I add on one more minute to my exercise sessions. The thinking is that yes that’s one year older but my body is coping with one more minute of workout than it did last year – so I must still be improving. Rather than getting older I’m getting fitter. Kinda getting better, still improving. Well that’s the thinking anyway….. Kinda makes sense to me.
Three years ago I was trying to get my head round organising my partners funeral. At the same time I was trying to empty my mums house and wrap up her loose ends. My head was completely spinning. I was in full zombie grief mode.
One family personal trauma doesn’t stop the world from spinning. It carries on regardless. So I was immediately faced with continuing the application for our sons Education Health Care Plan. Sat bewildered at my partners desk trying to find on my own the words for the final application form. The words came so easy when it was two minds. Now the one failed me. Then the black pen stopped working. Couldn’t find another and the form had to be completed in black on the pain of ……
So I set off to the shops to buy a pen. But quickly I was lost in a sea of grief and unanswered questions. An hour later I found myself at a random garden centre. Clearly a good choice for stocking up on pens. I wandered around aimlessly looking at plant after plant. The cctv must have been focusing on me as I was clearly not acting like your ordinary shopper. Then I came across a sad looking tree. Actually more like a snapped twig. The label said ‘discounted Pear Tree due to damage’. I felt sorry for this broken life form pushed to a dark corner of the store. Now no more that an afterthought. It felt like me.
So I went in looking for pens and came out with Groot (Marvel Universe).
Over the next three years Groot has grown and is now about 5 feet tall. Looks surprisingly healthy. AND this year for the first time it’s produced pears. Just FOUR pears. But it’s not the fruit crop which is important here. It’s something completely different. It’s HOPE. When personal tragedy strikes your whole world is turned upside down. It will never be the same again. You move from creating memories together to replaying memories in isolation. But you can’t live your life in those memories. Life has to go on. In my case life did go on. Yes I miss her dearly. Yes sadness always feels just round the corner. Yes I’ve become increasingly isolated from society. But life has gone on. Sons Education Health Care Plan was approved. I’ve changed careers. Progress has been made with Dyslexia. The house no longer feels like a funeral parlour largely down to the addition of a barking mad dog. I’ve increased the range of foods I can destroy. And Groot is thriving. That gives me hope.
“Dad did you just say a money tree. Can you really get a money tree?”
Son will often take things very literally. I’ve talked about this before. It is something which is fairly common with autism. I must admit I did this as a kid. You often find yourself trying to re-explain phrases that you often through into conversations (I am sure my parents had to do a similar thing).
My explanation of a money tree was rudely interrupted by Captain Chaos.
“Dad the pup is running round the garden with a sock. Correction. He is now burying the sock.”
I really can’t wait for the Sock Tree to grow….
Then we started thinking about other really useful trees we wish we could grow in the garden
The Money Tree (obviously) or if that’s a problem then we would settle for a Pay Your Bills Tree,
The Hugging tree – readily available hugs would be nice,
The one our cat can climb without getting stuck Tree,
The Anxiety Absorbing Tree,
The Children’s Clothes Tree – not having to constantly go to the sewing basket and fix knee and elbow holes would be lovely,
The Pancake Tree – would have been really useful today after my rather soggy attempts,
The Remote Control Tree – why do remote controls have stealth technology built into them, bloody thing is always going missing,
The Brexit Tree – would have to grow within the next few days….,
The Prune itself Tree – really essential after my last eye injury,
The Mirror of Erised Tree – if Harry Potter can have his deepest desires mirror then surely we can have a tree that does the same thing. Having said that I would prefer a Take you back 6 years to happier times Tree,
The Bird Dropping Missile Defence Shield Tree – how good would it be to have a tree that can eliminate bird droppings before they hit the ground,
The Chocolate Tree – now we are talking,
The Donut Tree – horticultural heaven.
So as I go outside to see if the Sock Tree has started to grow (probably next to the Pants Tree) can you think of any better ones.