Stolen Apples-Cider Season

This morning, when I stepped off the porch, it was cool enough for a jacket. It’s the time of year in Michigan our thoughts drift toward college football, fields of corn turning gold, hayrides, orchards, cinnamon donuts, cider mills, blue autumn mornings, and crisp, sweet apples. Since boyhood I have enjoyed the simple pleasure of eating a new Jonathan apple out on the sunny porch in the cool of an autumn morning. For a while we lived in the little village of Logansville three miles from Degraff, Ohio.

The wonderful back road from Logansville to DeGraff was the setting for many of my favorite boyhood adventures. Swimming in the creek, riding my bike, running from mean dogs, and apple fights with Glenn Fairchild and Steve Strunk.

One day we climbed over a fence and into an apple tree. We ate a few apples and used the rest for “hand grenades.” Lobbing the apples at each other none us noticed the man approaching. He was the farmer who owned the tree and the surrounding property upon which we were trespassing.

The man looked at us sternly but rather than ordering us off his property or giving us a tongue-lashing, he said something that surprised us all; “Boys you are welcome to those apples, I just don’t want you to waste them. You are free to come by here any time, but eat what you take.” I remember thinking, “When I grow up, that is the kind of man I want to be.”

Ken Pierpont

Granville Cottage

Riverview, Michigan

September 6, 2013