I always wanted a house with an apple tree. We planted two at the last house. When we bought this one we knew there was a big old tree in the garden, but we didn't know what it was. But it is my tree of dreams, an apple tree, and just now it's laden with shiny green fruit. Apple crumble, anyone? Apple pie, apple... well, apple anything really. By the way, in Yorkshire they serve Wensleydale cheese with apple pie, and with fruit cake, too. It's surprisingly nice.
Our friend Silke came to see us today, and we sat in the sun drinking tea in one of the habitable rooms before taking her for a tour, then I went outside to pick some apples for her to take home. It wasn't worth taking a stepladder out there, not when the tree is so climbable. How many years is it since I climbed a tree? Anyway, I did i, without breaking any limbs (mine or the tree's). I came down with quite a harvest.
My first ever published book was A FRIEND FOR RACHEL, then they renamed it THE SECRET MICE. It ended with two girls running off to climb the apple tree, and I thought of that today, when I climbed my very own apple tree.