Reflections on the Twelfth Week of Summer – Addy’s Big Adventure

Laura's Apple Picking - photo by Spence

Addy, my curious, three-and-a-half-year-old great niece, loves adventures. When she arrived at Wells Wood last Sunday with her little sister Amelia and an entourage of grown-ups―her grandpa, grandma, dad, and two aunts―I had a plan.

The plan came from long-ago childhood adventures visiting my great aunt. She had set a pot of water on the stove to boil, then hustled my sister and I to the corn patch. We picked corn, shucked it, and dropped it into the boiling water. That farm to table experience prejudiced me against store-bought corn because it failed to replicate the sweet taste of my aunt’s fresh corn dripping-with-butter.

I could offer Addy a similar adventure. “Spence bought an apple picker this week,” I told the gang gazing out the sliding glass door in the great room. “We can pick apples and make applesauce.”

Addy zipped around me and reached for the penguin toys Spence left on the end table to share with visiting children. She clutched one plastic and two stuffed penguins to her chest and circled the grown-ups.

Laura, Addy’s younger aunt, tapped the coffee table. “Leave the penguins here, Addy. We’re going to pick apples.”

Addy’s forehead wrinkled, but she set the penguins on the coffee table, ran to the door, and jumped the single step down to the porch.

The family gathered around the semi-dwarf Wolf River apple tree in the south garden. Leafy green branches obscured our view of all but Addy, Amelia, and grown-ups’ legs.

Laura grabbed the eight-foot, wooden apple picker handle and maneuvered its metal rake into high branches. “This is harder than it looks,” she said. Leaves rustled, metal tapped wood, and an apple plopped onto the foam pad in the collecting basket. After harvesting a second apple, she pulled the picker free and lowered it toward Addy.

She grabbed the four-inch diameter, red and yellow-green apple. It dwarfed her hand.

I pointed to the empty bushel basket at my feet. “Put the apple in the basket.”

She tossed the apple in. Thunk.

“Next time place it gently, Addy.” I demonstrated with the second apple. “That way the apple won’t get bruised.”

Addy unloaded the next set of picked apples and placed them into the basket―no thunks. She pointed to the apple picker. “It’s too long for me.” After watching Laura raise it into the branches one more time, Addy sprinted around the tree.

Nineteen-month-old Ameila toddled to the bushel basket and peeked inside. When Laura lowered the next harvested apple, Amelia grabbed it with both hands and turned toward the bushel basket. She lowered the apple without a thunk and glanced at me. Sunshine illuminated her chubby cheeks and curly blond hair giving her the look of a cherub with a halo.

On the other side of the tree, Addy shouted, “What’s this?” She grabbed the fluted edge of the round, stainless steel tray hanging from a PVC structure. It had eyes which Spence had fashioned from glow-in-the-dark tape.

Spence crouched beside Addy. “Aunt Janet likes apples. And deer like apples. This is a deer baffler to scare the deer away from the apple trees.”

Addy frowned and batted the baffler.

It thunked against the PVC pipes startling Addy. She laughed and dashed off to circle the strawberry bed.

Amelia toddled under the apple tree and pushed the deer baffler with her hand. The baffler swung away from Ameila then back and tapped her nose. Amelia’s face clouded. She whimpered and headed for her grandma.

In turn, four grown-ups wielded the apple picker. All grown-ups pointed and called, “There are three up there. Stand where I am, and you’ll see them.” Two by two apples mounted in the bushel basket.

Spence said, “Come on Addy. We’ll get the tractor to haul the apples to the house.” The two walked away. Soon, the rumble of the tractor engine echoed through the valley. Wearing ear protectors and matching grins, they rode into view―Spence in the seat and Addy on the fender. He steered the tractor with one hand and seat-belted Addy with the other. When Spence paused the tractor, Addy’s Aunt Sarah lifted the heavy bushel basket into the tractor bucket, and the tractor trundled to the log house with the apples, Spence, and Addy.

Spence and Addy on Tractor - photo by Sarah

Addy’s grandma, Sarah, and I sat at the kitchen table peeling and coring apples. Addy tiptoed to the table and peeked into the pot of cut apples. “Would you like to peel?” I moved over on my chair. “There’s room for you beside me.” I offered Addy the peeler.

She shook her head, looked in the pot again, and said, “Can I have a piece?”

Sarah cut her a slice.

Addy gobbled. “I want another piece.” She took another slice from Sarah and dashed to the other side of the great room to collect a pair of penguins. She munched and marched in a penguin parade.

Amelia toddled to the apple table and raised her hand.

Sarah looked at the silent toddler. “Do you want a piece of apple?”

Amelia moved her hand closer to the apple in Sarah’s hand.

Sarah cut a slice and handed it to Amelia. Amelia ate the apple then held her hand up for more. With the fifth piece in her hand, she toddled to the Adirondack chair where our cat Emma was resting. Amelia held the apple to Emma’s mouth. Emma sniffed then moved her head to the side. Amelia took a step to the side and offered the apple piece again.

Sarah called, “Cats don’t like apples, Amelia.”

Amelia put the apple in her mouth, stepped to the cat’s food bowl, picked up a crunchie, and stepped back to the Emma.

Emma sniffed it then moved her head to the side. Amelia stepped to the side and offered the cat food again. Emma refused to eat it so Amelia dropped it onto the floor.

When I put the apples on the stove to cook, Addy tugged at my t-shirt and said, “I want to go up there.” She pointed to the bridge connecting the two lofts.

Stirring apples, I said, “I’ll take you later, Addy. I’m making applesauce now.”

Addy’s shoulders slumped. She carried her penguins to the coffee table and danced them over Laura’s laptop.

Laura grabbed her laptop. “Weren’t you supposed to help Uncle Spence cook hot dogs? Go outside and ask if he needs help.”

Addy turned.

Laura said, “Leave the penguins here, Addy.”

Addy slammed the penguins on the table and trudged outside.

As Spence would tell me later, Addy met him at the grill below the porch, a meeting which sparked two, future Addy adventures. She watched Spence stoop to grab a handful of charcoal briquettes from the bag on the ground and put them in the grill chimney.

“Can we go on a big adventure?” She pointed between the white pines to the path that led into the woods.

“Later, Addy. I’m making the fire now.” He added crumpled paper, a lighted match, and more briquettes.

Addy grabbed two rocks from the ground and hit them together. “I can make a fire.”

Spence lifted the box of matches. “It’s easier with the matches. And those aren’t the kind of rocks that make sparks.”

Addy dropped the stones, grabbed a briquette, and reached toward the chimney.

Spence gently held her arm and took the briquette away. “The fire’s too hot, Addy.”

She watched Spence drop the briquette into the chimney. “How come you can put them in?”

“’Cause I’m old.”

Addy put her hands behind her back, glared at the charcoal bag, then stared at the gravel beside the bag on the ground. She bent her knees, picked up a stone, and showed it to Spence.

“That’s round,” he said. “Did you notice the stones are all different? They have different colors, sizes, and shapes.”

She selected another stone―

“That’s flat.”

and another―

“That’s round and flat.”

and another―

“That’s a trapezoid. If you like gravel, we can take an adventure to the gravel pile after dinner.”

She dropped the stones one at a time. “A big adventure?”

“Probably a little adventure.” He dumped the coals from the chimney and placed the cooking grate over them.

Later, Spence and Addy carried the cooked meat from the grill to the great room. The gang ate chicken, sausage, hot dogs, potato salad, pole beans, pickles, cheese, and tomatoes. We saved the applesauce for dessert.

 

Amelia Studying Apples, Addy Losing Interest - photo by Spence

End Part 1