August 30

The old crab apple tree in the front has had ripened fruit for a little over a week, and there are several beneath its boughs, having fallen when the wind blows.

There are relatively few good fruit trees in Paxton to speak of, apart from the occasional crab or quince that serve more decoratively than functionally. I suppose we are accustomed to the convenience of apples at any time of the year and of several varieties from the grocery store, but I wince when I see their specimens, particularly in January.

Insecticides, fungicides, preservatives and genetics have been employed prodigiously to allow this luxury, and the store apples uniformly approach some Platonic ideal, at least visually.

The heat of July must have impacted our crabs, and the cool, dry August concentrated the sugars. They are smallish this year, no bigger than a golf ball, but they are unusually sweet. Best to inspect them all around before biting; more than half have already been sampled by bird or insect, and several have worms within.

Those already fallen will slowly decompose, and in the heat of the day they give a cidery scent to the surrounding air that combines with the increasing smells of tannin and nuts, and drying grass – the beginnings of autumn perfume.