Birds of a Feather

After Applepicking October 5, 2010

Filed under: Beantown,Poetry,The everyday — kcfeather @ 5:05 pm

We went apple-picking this last weekend – it was a beautiful day, and an important step in becoming New Englanders.  Our friend L from Stanford was out for the weekend and really wanted to go…so we couldn’t resist tagging along!

Now we have 15 + pounds of apples to eat!  In addition to apple slices, we’ve made apple crisp, and today I canned 6 jars of caramel apple jam.  Tomorrow I think I’m going to try my hand at apple butter (since I still have 6 half-pint jars).

In any case, it was lots of fun (there were also cider donuts and fresh apple cider).  And, it reminded me of one of my favorite poems of all time:


After Applepicking

Robert Frost

My long two-pointed ladder’s sticking through a tree
Toward heaven still,
And there’s a barrel that I didn’t fill
Beside it, and there may be two or three
Apples I didn’t pick upon some bough.
But I am done with apple-picking now.
Essence of winter sleep is on the night,
The scent of apples: I am drowsing off.
I cannot rub the strangeness from my sight
I got from looking through a pane of glass
I skimmed this morning from the drinking trough
And held against the world of hoary grass.
It melted, and I let it fall and break.
But I was well
Upon my way to sleep before it fell,
And I could tell
What form my dreaming was about to take.
Magnified apples appear and disappear,
Stem end and blossom end,
And every fleck of russet showing clear.
My instep arch not only keeps the ache,
It keeps the pressure of a ladder-round.
I feel the ladder sway as the boughs bend.

And I keep hearing from the cellar bin
The rumbling sound
Of load on load of apples coming in.
For I have had too much
Of apple-picking: I am overtired
Of the great harvest I myself desired.
There were ten thousand thousand fruit to touch,
Cherish in hand, lift down, and not let fall.
For all
That struck the earth,
No matter if not bruised or spiked with stubble,
Went surely to the cider-apple heap
As of no worth.
One can see what will trouble
This sleep of mine, whatever sleep it is.
Were he not gone,

The woodchuck could say whether it’s like his

Long sleep, as I describe its coming on,
Or just some human sleep.


Happy Fall!


One Response to “After Applepicking”

  1. sherry Says:

    you two are the cutest littly apple pickers I’ve ever seen

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