The beauty of spring––we don”t expect it.
Every year we are amazed anew at the wonder.
c. e. hollis
Mama loved the crabapple trees for their glorious blossoms in the spring, she loved them for the generosity of fruit they set and for the early harvest. When last year’s plum and blueberry jellies and strawberry and cherry jams were gone from the pantry shelves, she could boil up a batch of crabapple jelly and restock.
Against the blue sky on a warm sunny spring day the blooms burst out and host honey bees in their rose like blooms.
Ahhhh, the crabapple, how obviously misnamed. How sadly unknown and unloved. One grows in my yard and I am happy for it. Early in the fall I will cook apples, scrawny and mishapen green apples and make some fine jelly.
Come by on Sunday and I will share.
Bringing the fresh air poetry and farm to my eager eyes. I comment appreciation.
Thanks for your interest. I’m glad you enjoyed reading.