poetry and prose about place

apple picking time

with 8 comments

October has taken hold and now signs of autumn are everywhere.  Color seems to be the theme… the orange of pumpkins and gourds, the yellows and reds of the maple leaves, and the red of ripe apples.

On our way to the lake, we drive past orchards of apples.  Most of the apples have been picked, but some trees are still laden with fruit.  For me, the orchards are full of memories, of picking apples with my family when we were younger.  I remember how much fun we had, my son and niece and nephew excited to be able to run free and pick the apples, and the adults thinking about the apple pie possibilities from those loaded trees.



orchard outing


wooden bushel baskets

of laughter, the delirious tumble

down the avenue of trees, shadows ripple

among the dapples, Cortlands tied

with scarlet ribbons and boughs burdened

to reach for us, my son grown tall

on his father’s shoulders,

stretches to pick the McIntosh

with the reddest shine,

small hand barely able

to grip the apple



Copyright Jane Tims 2012

Written by jane tims

October 10, 2012 at 7:12 am

8 Responses

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  1. What a wonderful capture of taking the little ones to the orchard to see where their apples come from!



    November 15, 2012 at 9:49 am

  2. nice, Jane…. oh how I love Macintosh apples, and they remind me also of being young and loving to taste them and feel how they fit so well in my small hands as a girl…. thanks for the nice memory jog with your lovely poem and post!



    October 11, 2012 at 11:01 am

  3. I especially like the “delirious tumble down the avenue of trees”. Great image. Thanks, Jane.


    Jane Fritz

    October 10, 2012 at 2:49 pm

  4. Bushel baskets of laughter and your son grown tall on his father’s shoulders – lovely images of fond memories in your words…


    Barbara Rodgers

    October 10, 2012 at 10:35 am

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