Apple Day

Today is Apple Day. It was established in 1990 by Common Ground to celebrate our national fruit and has quickly caught the public imagination. More info here http://commonground.org.uk/projects/orchards/apple-day/ I think it's fantastic how the effect has rippled out to create not only a new annual custom but also lots of community orchards. We danced once again at the organised event at the Arundel orchard but there are no photos as it was very much the same pattern as last year. I did however, ensure that I partook of some freshly pressed juice, a wee tot of mulled cider and a slab of Dorset Apple Cake.

Having become an owner of my very own little tree this last year I am even more keen to try new varieties. As a child one called D'Arcy Spice grew in my Nana's garden. It was discovered in the 1800s in Colchester which was literally a stone's throw from where she still lived. I remember it having a very tough skin and a remarkable taste which I now know to be akin to nutmeg and hence why it's called the spice apple.

Speaking of apple varieties these few lines penned by an unknown poet mention more.

Picking the Apples

Apples to pick! Apples to pick!

Come with a basket and come with a stick.

Rustle the leaves and shake them down, 

And let every boy take care of his crown.

There you go, Tommy! Up with you,Jim!

Crawl to the end of the crooked limb.

Carefully pick the fairest and best,

Now for a shake, and down come the rest!

Thump! Thump! down they come raining!

Shake away! Shake, till not one is remaining.

Hopping off here, and popping off there,

Apples and apples are everywhere.

Golden Russets, with sunburnt cheek, 

Fat, ruddy Baldwins, jolly and sleek,

Pippins, not much when they meet your eyes,

But wait till you see them in tarts and pies.

Where are the Pumpkin Sweet? Oh, here!

Where are the Northern Spies? Oh there!

And there are the Nodheads, and here are the Snows,

And yonder the Porter, best apple that grows.

Beautiful Bellefleurs, yellow as gold,

Think not we're leaving you out in the cold,

And dear fat Greenings, so prime to bake,

I'll eat one of you now, for true love's sake!

Oh, bright is the Autumn sun o'erhead,

And bright are the pile of gold and red!

And rosy and bright as the apples themselves

Are Jim, Tom and Harry, as merry as elves.

Anon

Arilx