We planted an apple tree just outside our kitchen window when we built our house here. It’s surprising that I never tire of watching for someone in the tree. At every meal I watch the comings and goings of life in the apple tree, a way station for every bird enroute to and from its daily seeds. I often wonder why I never tire of watching for what I might see there.
I should start an Apple Tree Journal; “---today Lady Cardinal perched shyly amongst the fragrant petals, savoring her breakfast as her great protector snatched a few seeds at the feeder--- never letting her out of his sight”
And, “---the wall Chipmunk (wall being an address among several others nearby) stood on tip-toe to reach a low branch, over laden with apples, to explore the leafy avenues of the tree. What are you looking for – so busy, so intent? Will you bite an apple?
Or, “---something must be done. The apple tree is straining under the weight of too much production --- must pick most of the little green fruit before the branch cracks under its burden.”
Perhaps the apple tree window is the prism of an armchair philosopher --- the great refractor, bursting synapses into the prismatic colors of the spectrum, from the cardinal reds of 4th of July to the deathly purple of current events in Darfur.
Today, far from the madding crowd, I’ll pick the too heavy, bitter fruit and watch the branch uplift in time for tomorrow’s breakfast.