The last surviving apple tree on our farm stood sentinel for over eighty years. It grew at the upper side of the garden, in front of the old cellar, near the woodshed and pretty close to our house. Originally we had apple, cherry, peach and pear trees on our property. Apples were a
favorite because of the variety and the many ways they could be prepared. Springtime brought early transparent apples. They were good to eat raw or cooked and made into applesauce. We enjoyed the Early June and Strawberry apples. Those were the best. In late
summer we had Cotton Sweets and Virginia Beauties. Our fall apples were Fallawater and Johnson Winter. We always had plenty of apples to eat, can, make dried apples and apple butter. Sometimes we made apple cider. The apples on the Sentinel were the last to get ripe.
Every fall, about frost time, she dropped her perfect red apples into the dried grass below. They were like treasures waiting to be found. If they froze, we just put them in cold water for a bit and they were fine. We didn’t know what kind of apple tree the Sentinel was, Dad had grafted it when the tree was young.
The first time I noticed the little apple tree I was eight years old. It was twice as tall as me and beginning to spread out. Every year it grew bigger. When it got big enough to bloom, bees and butterflies came to it’s beautiful pink flowers. A set of robins built their nest in the limbs of
the Sentinel. My niece, Patsy, and I loved to play under the apple tree. Dad fixed a swing to one of its limbs for us. Swinging there was great fun. Sometimes Patsy and I carried a few of the apples up to the hog pen to feed the pigs. That made them very happy.
Over the years I took the Sentinel for granted, passing by it every day. It had lost some of its limbs and I had to have surgery on my right hand and arm. We grew old together. The Sentinel did not fail to produce fruit, even in old age. Then black bears became plentiful in our area. They often came to the apple tree and that was just too close to the house. So, we made the painful decision to have the Sentinel cut down. It was a cold and windy day when the neighbors came to cut it. They notched the tree and then cut through its body. The Sentinel set back down on its stump and stood there in the wind. They had to coax the tree to fall. Watching from the window, I had tears in my eyes as it was cut up and hauled away. The stump is still there up near the woodshed. Every time I look at it, I wish just for a moment the Sentinel was still there.
But, “To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven: A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted; – Ecclesiastes 3 Verses 1 & 2 KJV Holy Bible
