I managed to prune the Granny Smith apple tree today before it rained.
Part of the pleasure of the job is memories of the tree’s fruitfulness, and dreams about next season’s bounty.
In this case I remember the apples from the year before last, shown in the photo. They were enormous and for the most part unblemished. In fact they were so big they were more than a sitting to eat raw so most of them got stewed.
I cooked a huge basketful of them when I got home from France the first time, leaving Clive hospitalised.
Last season yielded just a few marble-sized apples because of the drought; I hope we’ll be back on form this year!