We never before had so many apples,
the trees hardly could carry them all.
Thousands of apples, and
what to do with them?
We harvested as many as we could.
We gave them away;
friends and neighbors drowned in our apples,
grateful only in the
beginning, then: no thanks,
we already have enough. How many can
one eat? Get real, I mean: we need
a barn, a basement, some
place to store apples.
We harvested many, but there were more
always more. The tree
up front was the worst. Laden, I mean
packed. They were the best, so
delicious, red and green,
the perfect apples for snow whites stepmother.
I produced apple sauce and cake and
pancakes with apples, juice,
you name it. I left
some in the little garden house to see:
would they give us a
taste of harvest upon our return
at the beginning of
spring, of another life?
(March 5th, 2013)