A hard frost overnight, but this morning a big sun; the garden fence lit up; a glow of crab apples.
Passing on brightness among the shadows.
crab apples
Wild Apples On Wintles Hill
Come September and the months of drought simply switched off. Instead we have rain between showers. There have been days and days of lowering skies and serious downpours, and although this may be considered ‘typically English weather’, it comes as a shock after months of wall-to-wall sunshine.
But then last Tuesday we had a reprieve. Cloud yes, but rain on hold.
Let’s go for those crab apples, I say to he-who-builds-carports-that-aren’t-for-cars. He was not keen. The crab apple tree we first spotted in August is on top of Wintles Hill. It’s quite a haul up the green lane from town, followed by a gasping scramble up a steep sheep field. But he kindly yielded and came along too. It’s glorious once you’re up here, he says.
Back in August, when were are last here, the world felt toasted, the farm fields bare from an exceptionally early harvest, the grass brown and dead looking. But this week, after so much watering, all was mostly green again – the pasture fields rejuvenated. We even found some field mushrooms, the first I’d seen in years.
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When we arrived at the tree we found it as crammed with fruit as it had been a month earlier, but now there was a mass of tiny apples underneath. (We’ve also had gales).
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Since August I had been dithering about gathering the apples. It seemed too early. I had inkling they were better for making jelly after they’ve weathered a cold spell. But oh well, we were there now and with bags to hand. The fallen apples were anyway ripe and it occurred to me, that given the mass of apples still on the tree, I could come for another forage later in the year. And then I’d know, one way or the other – before or after a frosting.
As I was crouched, head down, picking over the fruit, I noticed the tree’s trunk – or rather trunks: talk about the drive to survive come what may…
Wild art as well as wild apples then.
There is definitely a remnant slip of hawthorn in the melee of roots and stems. But it makes me wonder: how ancient is this tree or trees? And how amazing that, here on so exposed a hilltop, and with so many gaps in its infrastructure, it can still produce such a prodigious crop.
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I collected a couple of kilos of fallen fruit. The apples on the tree did not want to be picked, holding fast to their twigs. We headed onwards and homewards down an easier slope, glimpsing the Indian elephant sculpture through the trees. We didn’t visit it this time, but it amused me that this view was often how we saw wild elephants when we lived in Kenya. In fact you were lucky to see this much of them…
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And it was here we found yet another crab apple tree, the fruit pale yellow, smaller and rounder than the hilltop apples. And it too was laden. Well! No need to worry about jelly supplies.
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I also wished I could think of something useful to do with hawthorn berries. There was a profusion of them on a nearby tree. All around Shropshire this year the fruit is providing a spectacular show, seemingly quite unaffected by the rainless spring and summer. The berries are of course very important in herbal medicine: tinctures and teas deemed restorative for the heart and arteries, and more besides. Simply looking at that glorious red made me feel brighter:
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And so to the kitchen to chop apples and simmer till soft.
The pulp is then put in muslin and strained overnight (allowed to drip, but not squeezed).
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The resulting juice is measured and put in a heavy pan with sugar at a ratio of 10:6 juice to sugar. You can add some lemon juice and herbs – chopped mint or rosemary, but I don’t. After stirring in the sugar until it is melted, a steady 7-8 minute boil is usually enough to achieve a set. The jelly should then be poured into sterilized jars.
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This being a once-a-year activity, I find it helps to make a small batch first to get the gist of things. This jar would definitely not pass muster at a Women’s Institute jam and preserves contest – too cloudy (must have squeezed the straining muslin), too many bubbles as I probably overdid the ‘setting’ in order to be on the ‘safe side’.
This particular crop obviously had a high pectin content: the gelling happened in less than 5 minutes. But never mind. It will still be fine with roast lamb, and delicious on a warmed croissant or with soda bread toast. And using the Wintles Hill wild apples means I can leave my lovely little garden crab apple trees looking decorative with their full complement of fruit. The blackbirds will get to enjoy them in December.
Turning Red
Yesterday surely was a red letter day – at least on the gardening front.
We had rain.
We did.
Enough to soak the top inch of soil. This I discovered in late afternoon when I went to dig up some Rooster potatoes whose leafy tops had been cut off some weeks ago. I was surprised the rain hadn’t penetrated more deeply. We’d had a few heavy downpours during the day, along with gentle summer showers in between. It just goes to show how much rain is needed to nurture crops and all growing things. In fact, the soil under the potatoes had baked into an ashy crust, reminiscent of Bishop’s Castle’s very particular brand of lime mortar that holds our house together, the crust only penetrable with a hefty thrust of the garden fork.
But for all that quibbling, the garden does look relieved, some plants almost perky. This includes the runner beans which had been too overheated to make any beans. Now, with the cooler temperatures, they are abuzz with bees and (hopefully) making up for lost time.
And in the bottom of the garden, our little crab apple is looking especially grateful. It was planted last October and, as a new young tree, has been struggling during the long dry spell. Buckets of tap water really don’t quite do the job, although obviously better than nothing. But the tree has survived and has a mass of little apples which are growing in redness by the day. I’m trying to recall the variety. I especially wanted a tree that was good for jelly, so it may well be Jelly King. Or if not that, Red Sentinel. It will become more obvious in a few weeks time when the apples gain their full colours. Happy thoughts of jelly making, though not of rushing too fast into autumn.
The Grateful Gardener
We have snow here in the Castle. We woke up to it early yesterday. What a shock. Snow in November. It’s much too soon. I’d seen the weather forecast of course, but was expecting only a spot of sleet that would soon melt away with the global boiling, not several inches of real snow, the sort perfect for snowballs.
Anyway, it’s not the snow I’m grateful for, but I do love the brilliant blue sky it’s brought with it. And also this golden Rowan tree in its white cocoon. It stands just outside our garden, and provides us with some borrowed treescape. And it, in turn, has recently been much loved by the birds, especially the blackbirds. Before the snow came they were busily stripping the stems.
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I’ll miss the berries when they’ve gone. On bright autumn days they light up like jewels. This is how they looked in early October. A tree full of joy. Thank you, Rowan.
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The snow fall also focused my eye on the latest garden addition: a Jelly King crab apple tree. Yesterday morning while sitting at the kitchen table eating my porridge, I could see its clutch of red apples glowing like little beacons at the bottom of the garden. Time for a photo then, and to say how very pleased I am with this Halloween birthday gift from my other half. Thank you, Graham.
It came a few days before my birthday, delivered in a tall box to the front doorstep, whither I was directed to investigate the new arrival. Once I’d broken through the cardboard, I was surprised to find the little tree had come with eight tiny apples still firmly attached. There were also a dozen loose ones in the bottom of the box, sadly not quite enough to make crab apple jelly, but filling me with high hopes. I decided to keep them as a spur to locating a wild tree. I thought I knew where there was one. And so it proved. Last week I found a fine crop of fallen apples in a patch of woodland on the way to the builders’ merchants. We now have crab apple jelly. No need to wait for the little tree to do its stuff then.
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And speaking of stuff – we still have some of the salad variety growing outdoors and in the greenhouse.
This year I’ve grown Red Radicchio endive. For the past few weeks it’s been growing fatter by the day, and as temperatures lower, the more red it becomes. I’ve been plucking the outer leaves with hopefully plenty more to come. In the greenhouse I have tubs of red Chinese mustard, Moroccan Cress which grows like a cut and come again lettuce and a few oakleaf lettuces. Also some lettuces out in the garden, though they may have succumbed to the snow. Likewise the marigolds. But it makes me very happy to find a bowl full of fresh salad leaves in late November. Thank you, garden.
And one little plant that is standing up to the snow, once I’d dug it out it earlier today:
These sweet little hearts ease type pansies have been flowering for weeks and weeks in a pot on the garden steps. And they’re still going strong. They were a gift from my sister. Thank you, Jo.
Lens-Artists: Gratitude This week Tina sets the theme, both timely and thoughtful. Please visit her ever lovely blog.
Over The Garden Fence ~ News From The Crab Apple Fly-By
Well, haven’t the birds tucked in well over the past few weeks. I have to say, though, I rather begrudge the number of pigeons who’ve come scoffing at our little Evereste tree. But still, the blackbirds have had their fair share too.
Here’s how the tree looked in early October, aglow in late-day light:
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And in no time at all it will look like this:
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And like this:
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And so the gyre of life, loss and renewal endures; never mind the doom-mongers.
Zero Degrees And Getting Colder
This morning over the garden fence: frosted crab apples and brilliant sunshine. The weather people tell us there will be more frost tonight and tomorrow (temps around –5 C), but slightly milder weather over the weekend.
In the meantime, I’ve been enjoying the frost-art around the garden, and especially the glistening spent flower heads of the Smoke Bush (Cotinus coggygria). Truly a tree for all seasons.
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And then there were the spider installations on the garden shed window:
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We also checked on the MacMoos this morning. They seemed in meditative mood, soaking up the sunshine.
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Much Wenlock’s Church Green this morning
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And finally before lunch there was a quick tramp to the allotment, the wheat field iron-hard, and hard on the feet too, even in boots.
Townsend Meadow
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Allotment windfalls – the robins are enjoying them
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Today Over The Garden Fence
This morning we woke to thickly frosted panes on the cottage roof lights. But what a change after the dank and gloomy days. The frost came with added sunshine. And blue-sky brilliance. And frosted sparkles. And somehow cold weather doesn’t seem half so shivery when it brings wall-to-wall brightness.
This is the Evereste crab apple tree by the back garden fence. The pigeons and blackbirds have been scoffing the tiny apples. At least half the crop has gone already. It helps that the fruits are much smaller this year so the birds can get their beaks round them. And in between times, the apples that remain make fine beaded garlands, which we can see, looking up through the kitchen’s French windows. It truly is a treasure of a tree.
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Back in August and September:
In The Pink ~ Bright Days Ahead
Here in Shropshire the fruit tree buds are swelling: soon be apple blossom time.
Upsy-Daisy Does It
It was definitely a case of trial and error. This wood pigeon was far too big and heavy to perch safely in our little crab apple tree AND snaffle the apples. Various approaches were attempted. Finally the down-under manoeuvre did the trick. Success!
Today Becky is using her magic crystal ball to do some conjuring.
This week Lisa wants to see ‘butts in the air’ bird life.
Having The Upper Hand…Or Would That Be Beak?
In recent days there has been a bit of a coup over in the crab apple at the top of the garden. Mama Blackbird has staked her claim to the crop. In fact the other morning I caught her seeing off the male blackbird in a most aggressive manner. No quarter given there then. He went off in a fluster.
Back in early December it was he who was King of the Crab Apples. There had been no frost or snow to soften the fruit, and he was finding the going tough, adopting a fencer’s lunging stroke to slice off shreds of fruity flesh. Once in a while he’d (accidently) end up with a whole mini-apple wedged in his beak, too hard to scrunch in one pincer movement. Next would come a rapid descent to the garden path to sort himself out. Once or twice I thought he was in danger of choking, and wondered what the procedure might be – to unchoke a blackbird. But then he hopped back on the fence and, if birds can cough, he coughed a few times and returned to lunging.
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And so now all is clear. There was naturally a very good reason why Mama Blackbird was biding her time, waiting for wintery weather to make easy pickings of the apples .
Apple Sorbet on a stalk. Mine! All mine! says Mama Merle.
