I once picked apples at this orchard, over 30 years ago – the only local (and gringo) so employed – everyone else was from Jamaica. It took me a full two weeks to acclimate my body to climbing up and down the ladder with a load of apples in the kidney shaped bucket at my waist, straps cutting into my shoulder, and I thought of myself in pretty decent shape to begin with. We were on a daily quota for the first week; to a man my co-workers finished by noon while it took me the full day. By the end of the season though, which lasted about 6 weeks, I had pulled even.
Many a fine memory there; the top rung of the ladder offered the best view of the orchard itself as well as distances near and far. It was heaven to be doing that hard physical work, no matter the weather; knowing it was time limited probably helped.
This image is from the beginning of the season, after the trees had been pruned and just before the bees really began pollinating.
The snow and ice in the southwest corner of this meadow have held on the longest, but will soon be gone. The iced over path to the lower left of the photo looks to be a well traveled animal trail.
The title here is a nod to a (quite readable) book by the historian William Cronon, called Changes In The Land: Indians, Colonists and the Ecology of New England, found here. Anyone interested in early colonial New England and particularly the convergence of the Native American and European cultures at that time may find it worthwhile. The book is perhaps most succinctly summarized by one Amazon reviewer, who says: “Indians hunted for dinner and not for the market.” Cronon explores the many facets of that notion, including, interestingly enough, the role of status anxiety in both the cultures. That’s one thing that hasn’t changed much over the years.
Alternate title for this image: Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes. RIP David Bowie.
There’s a bit of melancholy here, a yearning; the sap is running and the maple syrup season in full swing but these buckets are sidelined (“Put me in, coach!!”). But at least they’re piled in an accessible place; ready for a hardy soul – still sugaring the old way – to put them to use once again.
Howard Prussack, a farmer friend, once reminded me how physically demanding maple sugaring can be; getting the sap from buckets to the evaporator requires a lot of heavy lifting. Of course most large scale operations now use saplines, and the power of gravity.
It’s unclear whether this place has been abandoned; though I have never seen a vehicle around, someone seems to be doing at least some maintenance, and it hangs on.
