Today, I picked some apples from a small and buckled tree I planted two years ago.
I thought it was dead last year. It had nothing going for it and I decided to uproot it; but then thought, without much hope, ‘Well, give the failure one more year.’
I’m glad I did; and glad also for the reflections those apples have set in motion.
Sometimes I plant things and they bear fruit.
Sometimes I plant things and nothing seems to occur. Sometimes it is difficult to find meaning in anything I do.
Has any fruit ever grown?
And then I pick an apple, a shiny royal gala, from a little tree I planted.
Though this is about you, not me; and it certainly isn’t about apples, not really.
I’m sitting here, in the autumn sun, celebrating all your planting, and the harvest – known and unknown – that occurs in the world because of it.
It is sad that you see so little of it; harsh even; though beyond your sight, there’s a store house full of the most beautiful yield.
And it’s all down to you.
So keep going; get up and carry on. Don’t tire of goodness, truth and honesty.
You own and work an orchard of such mellow and magnificent fruitfulness…
… and sometimes you catch a glimpse.
