One apple. Just the one. With plans for apple espalier trees somewhere in the garden, our Spartan Apple tree with arms out stretched waved us over to show us her one single apple. A beauty. Not a grub, bite, peck or blemish. Our single apple was kept on the tree as long as possible, in watchful anticipation. Last night temptation got the better as I ventured into the garden of Eden and picked the solitary specimen. A quick execution half expecting a biblical talking snake offering eternal damnation or worse an actual snake in this somewhat weedy and neglected side of the shed very unlike Paradise. Eden probably wouldn't have had stinging nettles, nor out of control daisies. I'm sure there would have been a gardener. And a slow drip watering system, and a Bunnings somewhere. We're keen to put our espaliers somewhere in the garden where the gale force winds won't take the blossom, and possibly the whole trunk with it. We're also considering that possum would consider espalier trees just a new aisle in the supermarket, 'Roses, roses, APPLES, where's my trolley...' So before we suffer from either a major weather event or some marsupial discovers paradise, we decided to harvest. Like proud parents we sat and looked at the apple and planned our taste test. The occasion, a few slices of cheese and some crackers, a walnut half or two, maybe a grassy white wine paired (ahem) along with a sliver of paste of either plum, quince or whatever else they manage to squeeze into paste these days. A most satisfying event. Fig leaf optional.
