excellent narration. I enjoyed the trip through; & it was especially
fun for me because appletrees & their offerings have been a central
part of my childhood. we had around twelve hybrid appletrees in our
vast little garden, and there was a lot of picking to be done! the
scents were absolutely electrifying & sweet & wonderfully tactile. we
sold most of our land some years ago, and over a dozen trees (apple,
birch, pine) were felled to make room for a neighbouring house.
there were three firtrees right outside my window, which were one of
the first ones to be cut down; and I wrote a metric poem about it.
this was in 2004, I was just 17 & had been writing for only a year or
two; I'd never read Donne or Spenser or anyone else I could attribute
this faux-lofty voice to, so I'm not sure where that came from.
Tolkien probbaly, his verse sounds a lot like the below.
anyway, it's called Ode to the Three That Fell & here it is for a
laugh. PMcP may recognise it.
When life is lost, by reapers struck to earth
When beauty cut is down with roaring sheathes
When towers by machines are trodden down
Who will recall the days of breathing wreathes?
Three siblings, brothers, tall and mighty stand
Upon a hill of human love and awe.
In silence do they bless the lucky land,
Those mere adherants to a lofty law.
Though hoary-old, their beards swayed youthful still
And golden-green their humble brows did shine;
And nimbly tapping 'pon my window-sill
I knew that this beloved age was mine.
And even in the winter-memories
Their laden arms like nectar filled my soul.
Content was I, among the trident-trees
Before the curséd rape of branch and bole.
They did not fight, they fell as though they knew
What was to come, and maybe even why.
For as they rocked the earth, a wind there blew:
Therein was loosed a hearty farewell-cry.
Now in my thoughts they have their final rest
But still I tred where their abode was best
KS
On 03/10/2007, Max Richards <[log in to unmask]> wrote:
> Pettys Orchard
>
>
> This green stretch of Templestowe
> between the main road and the river
> used to be all orchard country.
>
> Now only Pettys¹ survives -
> the rest is million-dollar houses
> with pools on one-acre sites.
>
> Pettys proudly keep on with trees
> they call Œantique apples¹;
> their tasting days in March are famous.
>
> Passing their side road in September,
> surprise: we see their sign out:
> Fri. and Sat.: organic produce.
>
> But their gate sign signals No Dogs;
> as we skirt their wetland and its birds,
> our pup is told: You¹re not getting out.
>
> Lines of bare trees (soon to blossom)
> stretch to the river, the grass under them
> grazed by kangaroos! whole families.
>
> ŒWe¹re happy for them to keep the grass down.¹
> says Mrs P. She buys in honey,
> chocolate, vegetables, organic rice.
>
> The sheds are of old weathered timber;
> signs invite us to the orchard museum -
> such old machines! wood and canvas,
>
> for rolling apples along through gaps,
> sorting them for size, and so into boxes.
> The apples on sale are popular ones:
>
> Jonathan, Golden.... Driving away, we bite
> into our purchase: not since childhood
> have apples tasted so sweet and good.
>
> The pup has never tasted one before;
> he thoughtfully masticates the core.
> Organic kangaroos people my head.
>
> 3 October 2007
>
> Max Richards
> Doncaster, Victoria
>
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