When we moved into our house in August of 2007, the backyard was literally covered with apples from the apple tree (most in various stages of rot). It was kind of a mess.
By late September, I got my act together and bought an apple picker to reach the good, ripe apples up high in the tree. Boy, oh boy, did we have apples. We made apple crisp and apple sauce. We gave bags of apples away to our family and friends.
Last spring, I just assumed that we were in for the same apple bonanza. I waited to see blooms on the tree. And I waited. And then I called an arborist to come out and prune the tree and he told me that some varieties only bloom every other year. What! No apples?
Turns out he was right -- well, almost. I walked out into the yard yesterday to find one, red, perfect apple had fallen from our tree. Just one. I looked up and I don't see any others.
It is as if the tree put all of its efforts into making one, perfect apple. I can't quite bring myself to cut it open and eat it.