When we bought the house last year, we didn't realize we had apple trees in the back yard. I remember seeing "fruit trees" in the listing, but didn't think to ask about it. Last fall we discovered we have two apple trees behind the garage. We had no idea what kind of apples they were and we didn't try them. Thinking back, I don't even remember seeing apples all over the ground. I'm sure there were--I doubt the trees waited until this year to produce.
Anyway, we have lots of apples this year and they've started to drop from the trees. I decided to taste one, but since I haven't eaten many apples in my lifetime, I couldn't figure out what kind it was. I knew it wasn't Fuji, Red Delicious, Golden Delicious, or Granny Smith; I know those varieties well. I scoured the internet trying to figure out what kind of apples I have. I posted a picture on Facebook, too. It's been determined that I have Macintosh apples.
Now that I know what the variety, I've become a little...enamored...with the fact that I own apple trees and they actually produce edible fruit that tastes good and won't kill me. I know, I didn't grow them myself. But I didn't kill them either (I'm a notorious plant killer). So, I have a lot of pride in the fact that I own apples trees, they're alive, and producing fruit. And I love that I basically have breakfast, lunch, and dinner sitting right outside my back door, if I'm so inclined.
Everyday I go outside and scour the ground for good apples, since the ones still on the trees aren't ripe enough yet. (I'd love to know how I'm going to pick them all, since the trees are really tall.) I get home from work, drop my bags on the top of the recycling bin, and go out back to grab some apples. As I pick them up I check for bruises, holes, spots, and any kind of split. If one has a few spots or a bruise, I just polish it on my shirt and take a few bites off the good side--I have to make sure they're ripe, of course. ;) Then I toss it into the field for the deer to eat. I usually do this to at least five apples. By the time I'm done, I'm not hungry for dinner anymore.
The only thing I don't like is that the apples seem to drop fast. The other night I picked up six buckets full of apples that had dropped to the ground. They were either rotted, damaged, or half eaten (the deer like to munch on them). I tossed them all into the field behind the house; I'm sure some animal will eat them. Then I went back there the next night and it was as if I hadn't picked them all up the night before.
And these things drop without warning, too. It was like dodging bullets trying to pick up the apples while standing under the trees; one needs a hard hat for this job. I bent over to grab one off the ground and then one hit me on the back. I thought Bob had thrown one at me, but he hadn't. An apple fell from the tree I was under. Scary, because it could have hit me in the head. At one point, one started falling and it took ar lest six others with it. Luckily I wasn't standing in that spot anymore. When it comes time to harvest I think I need to invest in a hard hat or a bike helmet!