Going up the side of a cliff about the first of November, I saw a
vigorous young apple-tree, which, planted by birds or cows, had shot up
amid the rocks and open woods there, and had now much fruit on it,
uninjured by the frosts, when all cultivated apples were gathered. It
was a rank wild growth, with many green leaves on it still, and made an
impression of thorniness. The fruit was hard and green, but looked as
if it would be palatable in the winter. Some was dangling on the twigs,
but more half-buried in the wet leaves under the tree, or rolled far
down the hill amid the rocks. The owner knows nothing of it. The day
was not observed when it first blossomed, nor when it first bore fruit,
unless by the chickadee. There was no dancing on the green beneath it
in its honor, and now there is no hand to pluck its fruit,—which is
only gnawed by squirrels, as I perceive. It has done double duty,—not
only borne this crop, but each twig has grown a foot into the air. And
this is _such_ fruit! bigger than many berries, we must admit, and
carried home will be sound and palatable next spring. What care I for
Iduna’s apples so long as I can get these?
When I go by this shrub thus late and hardy, and see its dangling
fruit, I respect the tree, and I am grateful for Nature’s bounty, even
though I cannot eat it. Here on this rugged and woody hillside has
grown an apple-tree, not planted by man, no relic of a former orchard,
but a natural growth, like the pines and oaks. Most fruits which we
prize and use depend entirely on our care. Corn and grain, potatoes,
peaches, melons, etc., depend altogether on our planting; but the apple
emulates man’s independence and enterprise. It is not simply carried,
as I have said, but, like him, to some extent, it has migrated to this
New World, and is even, here and there, making its way amid the
aboriginal trees; just as the ox and dog and horse sometimes run wild
and maintain themselves.
Even the sourest and crabbedest apple, growing in the most unfavorable
position, suggests such thoughts as these, it is so noble a fruit.
THE CRAB
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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