Friday, February 7, 2014
As a boy wandering this land that I now live on I can remember the old apple trees that grew here. They were gnarled hollow trunked survivors probably planted in the late 1800's by a farmer by the name of Sollenberger. 50 years ago or more a neighbor then himself an old man told my Dad about the old bachelor who lived back on the ridge and scratched out a living on this thin rocky soil. As a child this neighbor could remember the old farmer coming out the lane that ran past his home every Sunday morning, driving a horse and buggy and singing hymns on his way to church. The old apple trees are all gone now, but a few volunteer trees sprouted from seeds of the old trees have taken their place. Producing a small russet apple that my grandmother called a Rusty Coat they continue the legacy started by the old farmer.
With an aluminum telescopic pole saw I pruned some of the volunteers this week to rid them of dead and crossed over limbs and to open their centers up to sunlight and air to promote a healthy more productive tree and felt the satisfaction of knowing that there would be trees filled with apples this fall just as there had been for the last 100+ falls.