I wonder if the people who had the over-laden apple trees and left the crop to fall and rot on the ground are worrying about their food budget this year. I don't know how many wild and cultivated (and neglected) apple trees were left untouched in my area last year. I stopped at one place where the lawn (aka wasted green space) was literally blanketed with fallen apples. I asked if I could take them and was rudely run off! It galls. This year, there is a real scarcity of fruit - tree fruit. I have two old, decrepit apple trees that had lots of fruit last year. Yesterday, I searched the branches and came up with two tiny apples. How long will people continue to stand, helplessly, and cry about the cost of food when they can pull themselves up by their bootstraps and grow some? Harumph. And the people who gave up after one attempt at gardening? If you think that was hard, try stretching your dollar to cover even more food price increases. There's freedom in providing your own food - it ain't easy, especially this year, but it beats the pants off the alternative.
This weekend as I bid Sylvie 'Bon Voyage' - off to the start of her new life in Maine (with very mixed emotions), I was given to some nostalgic ruminations on the people who have touched my life over the (many) years. There were the Youngbloods, the elderly farming couple who introduced me to chickens, Clydesdales and hummingbirds, Duncan, the sculptor who inspired me to be an artist and taught me how to accept criticism without tears, Mort, with his photogenic mind and amazing sense of fun, Rip, for the magnitude of his generosity and spirit, and it goes on and on and on. And let's not forget the waiter in the Madrid restaurant who, when he thought the chair on which I was sitting was too high, slid a little cushion under my feet. And I wasn't even the one leaving the tip!