There is something quite rewarding about eating something you have grown yourself. In our case, this includes apples (several varieties), pears, plums, greengages, blackberries and some accidental rhubarb. By that I mean it just shoots up in an otherwise uncultivated bit of the garden.
Actually ‘grown yourself’ is over-egging it. Apart from an ornamental crab apple tree, the other trees were here when we bought the house and tending them only really involves Mrs P painting a black band round the trunk each spring to keeps the creepy crawlies getting at the fruit, giving them a bit of a spray should the green, black, blue or whatever hue of flies threatens the fruit.
But we get masses of fruit, so much so that we have to give it away. Mrs P took a boxful to choir practice last week and I’ll be taking a bag to work tomorrow. This always goes down well as the fruit is delicious, particularly the Discovery apples which are sweet and juicy.
And the other reason I am amazed at how much fruit we end up with is that we throw so much of it into the compost or green wheelie bin. We seem to chuck out three or four times more fruit that has dropped off the tree or gone bad on the bough than we actually wash for eating.
I’m not sure which critters wander our lawn in the night, although Jack, our dog, clearly finds the sniffs intriguing every morning, but they do like gnawing on the fallen fruit, mostly the apples.
We may not be organic given the spraying mentioned above, but at least the pick to palate journey is short and doesn’t involve planes or trucks or trips to the supermarket, he said with more than an air of smug self-satisfaction.
Now all I have to do is Google ‘cider press.’