I’ve been in my small orchard, looking at the apples. We have maybe 6 apple trees- cookers and eaters, a cherry, pears, plums, walnuts, raspberries, currants, gooseberries, damsons etc
I’m so ashamed of myself. Another year has passed without me making full use of this wonderful food at my fingertips. It’s even more painful to me knowing that I’ve been blessed with a recreation of my favourite childhood memories of living with George and Anne, my grandparents, and helping them harvest their garden.
They had a tiny 1920’s/30’s semi-detached house with no central heating, a bathroom downstairs and open fireplaces. The main living room was made smaller by a built in pantry (much like the one above) that housed a wonderment of delights on shelves, in bottles, in jars and crates on the floor.
The smell of stored apples is something that I will never forget. Along with the memories of George and I putting them to bed for the winter…wrapped in newspaper and carefully placed.
Oooh. I’ve come over all nostalgic :o)