Our trees haven't been pruned in decades and I'm confident (because Martha Stewart has said it's so) that if I were to prudently prune, I'd be rewarded with apples in abundance and likely have a few that were within my grasp.
Mint, however, I have mint at my finger tips. At my toe tips, for that matter. When I've been able to wrangle a few apples, I've had to walk through a field of mint to procure the little suckers.
field of peppermint dreams
minty path to the apple tree
With each step, my clogged soles release the hidden oils nestled inside the fuzzy leaves. The apple picking air is saturated with beautiful astringence and I'm compelled to pluck a few leaves to take inside.
Today I had the very fine luck of collecting a few beautiful apple specimens and along the path home, I plucked a handful of specimints. I made a lovely juice of the two. It was delicious.
this way to the bakery to put those apples to use.
But I'd have been just as happy to have returned down the path empty handed, having spent a few moments visiting with the sights and smells of Freegrace.