Distance: 8.2km
Accessibility: Small dirt track. Not wide enough for wheelchairs, and bumpy. No incline, but be mindful of rotting fruit on path.
Landscape: Orchards.
In the city you never think about where your food comes from. You might see the odd tray of sausages at a food market, and understand they originated from a local farm. But there is no real sense of the scale of produce created across the country.
Which is why I was so interested in the walk near the orchards of Aeppled Scholt.
Once you park, and hop over a busted style, you can smell the freshness of the fruit. The trees are wide and fat, and their branches stretch over you like parasols blocking out the sky. A length of string pulled tight by rough fence posts was the single indication the orchard belongs to someone. Each tree groaned with apples, each scarlet red and spherical. A few windfalls lay on the ground, Most were wizened old men or spongy maggot bait, but a few looked supermarket ready. Would it matter if I took one?
Stealing two pence is still stealing two pence. I let them be.
The name of this walk suggests people have grown fruit here for centuries. Are these the sons and daughters of those same apples? Static temporal points like this make my mind ache.
I continued down the thin path along the side of the trees, and thought about them originating to a seed that predates the Aztecs.
Keen readers may remember the Butter Mouse story where he spent the whole book struggling to pick an apple. In the end he gathered all his friends together, and they formed a tower to pick this juicy treat. The illustration where they sat down to huge bowls of apple crumble and custard was always one of my favourites. I asked for the topping of the crumble to match the shade of the Butter Mouse’s fur.
The orchard also made me think of one of the few times Archie met my parents. They had cooking apples in their garden, and he reached up, and tried to pick one. We all laughed. My Dad said something about this not being an ideal tasty treat.
That memory always made me sad. Like I had missed out on so many possible adventures. But out here, amongst the trees, I had to smile.
The smile lasted until I spotted the shadow by the fence.
::I needed a calmer walk after last time Barbara. Somewhere quiet and hot. I think once again everything got a bit on top of me. I’ve looked back on some of the previous chapter drafts, and it all seems a bit rambling. This routine makes you write, but it also puts the pressure on.
Is it the right season for apples? I swear that was in the autumn. My head is foggy, The air must have got to me today.
Broken up the writing patten. Writing in the garden with the sun out. Perhaps this is the way to deal with everything. ::
