The Old Crab Apple Tree

Aug 22nd, 2020 by Diane Seymour | 0

“I dare you to lick its tongue!”

My cousin Tracy is fifty days older than me, so he should have known better, but …

The crab apple tree stood in the front yard of our farmhouse on Sugar Hill and threw off gobs of yellowish-red apples not much bigger than golf balls. Every year without fail, my brother Lanny and I would take a bite of one, convinced that somehow it would taste better than the year before. But no, sour and bitter, they only proved their worth on toast as my mother’s crab apple jelly.

Well actually, the tree and apples did play other important roles in our lives. The tree stood right in line between the house and barn, and every evening on their way to milk cows, my father and cousin Terry would stop for a quick competition. They’d fling crab apples across the dirt road at the Surge Milker sign nailed on the side of the tractor shed. The losing pitcher had to wash the milkers that night – a really high-stakes game!

One of the tree’s sturdy limbs held a rope swing for my brother and me and any cousins or other kids who came to visit. It eventually lost its job to a new-fangled metal swing set. The same limb though came into use every late November or early December during deer season. Which brings me back to cousin Tracy, from maybe sixty years ago. The deer hung head down from that crab apple tree limb. And so he said,

“I dare you to lick its tongue!” I did and he did too. Kids!

That crab apple tree is long gone, you don’t see many deer hanging in trees anymore, and I’m guessing that there’s not much crab apple jelly being made either. But, if you head out Foote Road, you can still find that rusted old Surge sign hanging on the tractor shed patiently waiting for another apple to fly its way. Memories …

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