The Apple Tree in our field is ancient. Woodpeckers love it. Literally, love it. They've pecked some of the limbs so much that they became week and collapsed under the weight of the apples in later summer and fall.
With storms and the drought we had a few years ago, I thought we might lose the old workhorse. But last fall, I pruned all the weaker limbs off the tree and a great deal of the new growth. The idea was to give the inside branches room to breathe.
The tactic worked. It had clouds of blossoms and this summer, the limbs are laden with green apples.
A few of them are beginning to turn. I've seen deer under the tree this past week looking up into the limbs to get an idea about the harvest. They left giddy.
My knee should be well on the way to full strength by harvest time.
Several years ago we had a weeny roast and a hayride for our great nieces and nephews and their friends. We stopped the trailer full of squealing kids under the apple tree. Lifting the smaller kids up one by one so they could pick their very own apple from the tree.
I'm strong enough now that I plan to walk down to the apple tree tomorrow to get a first-hand look at the progress our tree is making.
Like the doctor told me up front, this week has not been a picnic. But I can now see improvement each day. Maybe one day soon, I won't call the doctor and the therapist's ugly words.
With storms and the drought we had a few years ago, I thought we might lose the old workhorse. But last fall, I pruned all the weaker limbs off the tree and a great deal of the new growth. The idea was to give the inside branches room to breathe.
The tactic worked. It had clouds of blossoms and this summer, the limbs are laden with green apples.
A few of them are beginning to turn. I've seen deer under the tree this past week looking up into the limbs to get an idea about the harvest. They left giddy.
My knee should be well on the way to full strength by harvest time.
Several years ago we had a weeny roast and a hayride for our great nieces and nephews and their friends. We stopped the trailer full of squealing kids under the apple tree. Lifting the smaller kids up one by one so they could pick their very own apple from the tree.
I'm strong enough now that I plan to walk down to the apple tree tomorrow to get a first-hand look at the progress our tree is making.
Like the doctor told me up front, this week has not been a picnic. But I can now see improvement each day. Maybe one day soon, I won't call the doctor and the therapist's ugly words.
