\u201cThe years shall come and pass, but we
Shall hear no longer, where we lie,
the summer\u2019s song, the autumn\u2019s sigh,
in the boughs of the apple tree.\u201d
William Cullen Bryant, The Planting of the Apple-Tree<\/em><\/p>\nThese days, you realize you\u2019re starting to live the life of a herdswoman. You walk out into a field, tall grasses, the fawn-like ears peeking up amidst the weeds \u2013 little noises letting you know it\u2019s time to stop for a quick bite or snack before journeying forward. It\u2019s the height of summer, and the old orchard\u2019s apple trees are starting to show fruit. The doelings discovered apple leaves for the first time yesterday, and now they beg for you to lower a bough so they can munch the tree\u2019s sweet leaves.<\/p>\n
Late afternoon has drifted in along with a slightly cool breeze that sweetens the air. A summer\u2019s haze has descended so that everything appears a worn, well-loved photograph of a favorite place from long ago. And you remember a Bryant poem:<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat plant we in this apple tree?\u201d
\u201cBuds, which the breath of summer days
Shall lengthen into leafy sprays\u2026<\/em><\/p>\n\u201cWhat plant we?\u201d The story between animal and human? Farming companions for centuries sharing similar hillsides and fields, relinquishing the day\u2019s work into a momentary respite of fragrant summer air?<\/p>\n
The tall grasses rustle \u2013 Timothy \u2013 you have learned, along with Vetch, and Red Clover. They love the Timothy grass though, and luckily this field has not been mowed. Each time one of the girls looks up, a long blade of Timothy sticks out like spaghetti. And you can\u2019t help but laugh at the silliness that complements the overwhelming beauty that is right now. The wind gently caresses the apple trees\u2019 leaves, moving through the branches, layered with songs of birds in the surrounding bushes. What bird you don\u2019t know, and frankly you don\u2019t care\u2026 not knowing doesn\u2019t take away from your deep appreciation. It\u2019s late July, and the day is better than perfect; it\u2019s almost perfect.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat plant we in this apple tree?
Boughs where the thrush, with crimson breast,
Shall haunt and sing and hide her nest.
We plant, upon the sunny lea,
A shadow for the noontide hour
A shelter from the summer shower\u2026\u201d<\/em><\/p>\nYou have decided that this is your favorite spot here: the old orchard contained in 3200 acres of land, over 2,000 feet in elevation, full of spruce woods. People once lived here and you can see the traces they left behind. Former stonewalls, forgotten steps, how did the farmers that planted these trees live? What were their days like pruning the trees and harvesting the fruit? Would they have ever guessed that over 100 years later a young woman and her two goats would wander back to their once beloved orchard on a day like today? Chosen for the trees\u2019 shade, their delicious leaves, and the view of abandoned fields? Although the tall grasses and trunks of the trees show the wear of time, there is something in this meadow that moves beyond the world of hours\u2026 so much has been planted in these apple trees.<\/p>\n
Your thoughts move towards first kisses and the last glass of wine, shared joys and labors\u2026 walks through future orchards and nearby mountains. The orchard\u2019s dreaminess pulls you away and takes you under; the young golden apples become alluring, filled with promises against the sound of content, full mouths faintly chewing in the background. What will you plant in your apple tree? You look up at its branches\u2013 there is so much left to do \u2013 the swelled breaths of summer days, the bounty of fall harvest, future pies and shared meals, winter walks and spring blossoms, laughter and delicate hands \u2013 how many stories are written against the bark of trees?<\/p>\n
And strangely, this is all brief \u2013 just a few minutes before you gather yourself again. Time to head back. And so you call to your little herd. Right now there are only two, and you can imagine how fondly you\u2019ll remember this beginning. Reluctantly they turn around, leaving behind the shade of the apple trees \u2013 stepping out into the rosy gold evening sun. The abandoned orchard, the Bryant poem \u2013 \u201cwhat plant we in this apple tree?,\u201d you continue to say to yourself over and over again until someday you reach home.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n
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