No longer a flower and not yet a fruit, may each proto-apple grow into fall's bounty. This May 25 close up shows the same trees as this earlier view (May 13) at Nagog Hill Farm.
J.R.R. Tolkien's elves divided the year into six seasons, not four. Between autumn and winter came fading, an ebb in the tide of nature. ¶ Halfway between the cross-quarter day of Samhain (Halloween) and Yule, the trees at Nagog Hill Orchard stand bleak and bare under a gray November sky, so very different than that of early fall.
Yesterday I pedaled out to Nagog Hill Orchard in Littleton. This is an agreeably bare-bones pick-your-own place, but of course you can buy by the pound and they have a lot of trees and varieties from which to chose. There's not a lot of room in my bike bag and I only bought one, a Macoun. The woman behind the table helpfully offered a paper towel to protect the apple, a nice thing to do because Macouns bruise easily.
On Halloween I pedaled out to Littleton for another visit to Nagog Hill Farm. There were no apples left on the trees. Compare the photo at right to the one I took back in July (as told here ): All in all two bookends to the season.
Tuesday was unseasonably cool and nice, so I pedaled out to Nagog Hill Farm in Littleton. This orchard, in part of the old Sarah Doublet lands overlooking Nagog Pond, has been in business for years even as neighboring farms fell to development. (A recent interview with one of the chief chroniclers of this plot of land includes some tantalizing historical details. ) Alas, Nagog Hill Farm grows no early apples (though the peaches and plums were tempting). But look closely at the deep red spots in the photograph to see what's headed our way.