September 8

Early cider has arrived at the farm, placed in half and full gallon jugs on the shelf where the apples, peaches, blueberries and grapes are sold. This early batch will be tempered in sweetness and slightly acidic, compared to what will be stocked later in the month as the apples continue to ripen. I like it either way, and so I brought home a half gallon, poured a mug full and heated it in the microwave. It was a delicious taste of fall.

I remember making cider years ago in Michigan, when as a child we’d spend an occasional fall weekend up north. Activity at the MacArthur farm had slackened since the frenetic pace of getting hay mowed, baled and stacked in the mow, and we kids could enjoy other work like cider making.

We’d take the truck to the upper field that overlooks Lancaster Lake, where several apple trees sat in uncultivated surroundings, though separated from the wanting eyes of the cattle by fencing. The cows would surely enjoy rubbing up against the apple trees to dislodge the fruit to the ground so they could gorge away.

We’d fill bushel baskets with apples, handpicked by standing in the flatbed of the truck and reaching high. In my minds eye, I can still see the cows looking expectantly across the fence at us, hoping that we’d allow them access.

We’d ferry the apples back to the farm, where Bruce or James would have the press ready, a medieval-looking contraption of slated wood and large turning screw. The apples were placed in a cheese cloth, then situated within the press. The screw would mash the cheese bag, and the juice would flow out the wooden sluice at the bottom into waiting glass jars, each filled in turn by a funnel held between the sluice and its neck.