There is no point to dwell on all of this now. The damage has been done and like many communities who have experienced devastation, the only thing left to do is move on. Only along the way, and over time, does the story unfold...
We had 16 inches of heavy wet snow. It fell on autumn leaved trees and evergreens. It blanketed the garden which caused its abrupt end for harvesting. Somewhere under there are still parsnips, kale, parsley and carrots. I may still get to see them because much of the snow may melt off this week.
Winter usually means that the garden is "put to bed". It has a peaceful and quiet feel to it. All is well, comes to mind. Leaves are mulched on top of empty garden beds and old vines are pulled and composted among other tasks.
However, this storm ravaged our hillside much like the ice storm had in 2008. Mature trees fully leaved were snapped in two. Others lost branches or branches were so severely bent they were snapped. Shrubs, bushes and plants were weighted down bending or breaking, or so buried that their fate is still unknown.
When I heard through Kent's failing cell phone that we had lost two of our larger apple trees and one of the new ones that I had planted this spring, my heart just broke. Other apple trees had main branches snap. I couldn't believe what I was hearing.
I fell silent from the news. Then, I felt my throat heat as it does before tears well up from that deep place where sadness roots itself. I couldn't see what happened. Kent was worried that his cell phone would soon run out of battery. He didn't want to take a picture. It didn't matter. Grieving is an emotion. I did not need my seeing of this destruction to understand. Did I need to see it? Silly, over trees, I was grieving! Not because they were trees. I grieved because I had lost APPLE trees.
Apple trees, I have come to learn, are symbolic of the essence of bounty here on the hillside. They are truly the "fruits of the earth". They take time to mature before they will produce apples. So, there is patience involved. They take on so much weather, infestation and other hardships that when the apples appear, they seem like red juicy miracles. Hmm. This sounds like there is neglect involved, too. No, no, I do hope to continue to do a better job in the future with helping them out. They need so much. This will take time. So, despite everything that occurs in nature around them, they have survived. They blossom in the spring, set their fruits and grow.
Until yesterday.
That's what hurts so much. That, this one freakish October snow storm took down these tough-it-out New England raised apple trees in one blow. Only one thought remains. This wasn't a New England thing that happened. This storm set records. Jaffrey, New Hampshire, just north of us by about an hour, won the greatest amount of snow award with 30 inches reported. Never mind, the record rainfall for October alone which was almost double its usual average. We have been setting new records almost every other week. But, is this ok? Is this normal?
Time for moving on....It is 50F. The sun is shining and I can hear water dripping off the roof. There's work to be done. I plan to put on my boots and salvage the apples off the fallen trees. Clean the young tree. It's stump I'll leave for now. Older ones will have to lay where they are until we can break them down, first branch by branch, and then by chain saw for their trunks. Finally, we will stack what we can burn in our wood stove for the winter months ahead.
Before
after
Apples salvaged through the snow and fallen branches
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