My family came upon apples by accident. My Grandfather purchased three pear trees for his Detroit home. He carefully planted them and took care as they grew. It took four years until the first fruit appeared. However, the trees were not pear, but apple. An exciting mistake for me.
By the time I was born, the three apple trees reached way higher than the power lines. These were not your small orchard apple trees. Nor were they a popular store variety of apples. I spent most of my summers in the those trees and less on the ground. All the apples I could eat, it was perfect!
I had adventures in all areas on the tree. Once I even crawled up to a squirrels nest and peaked in. When my grandmother was ready to make a pie, she had me climb into the tree and pick nice ripe apples. We didn’t spray so we always had to make sure there weren’t any worm holes.
I loved being up in those trees and one day I decided to make a treehouse in one of the trees so I could nap surrounded by nature. I didn’t have any wood, so I would have to be be creative and improvise, like kids do. I found an old box that had previously been a spaceship, a pirates boat and I think a submarine. I climbed my favorite apple tree with my box way up high so I could look out the top of the tree. I found two relatively good sized branches and wedged my box between them. I kneeled down in the box and looked over the edge. The branches of trees that high up are not that sturdy and they swayed with me in my box. Finally, a gust of wind hit the tree and dislodged my box. I rode that box down the apple tree like a toboggan flying down snow hill. Scared as HELL! I hit every branch on the way down and landed softly on the ground. I got up, looked around and ran inside.
When fall came, I helped my uncle pick up barrels of apples that fell. It seemed like such a waste to get rid of all these apples. If I only knew then what I know now, we would have had AWESOME hard cider from those apples!
Sean, The Cidermaster