The beauty of the serene environment that surrounded me, the long, shadow-casting woods that lead up to the orchids and gardens were like a stairway to heaven. Soft breeze blowing right there across my face, touching it and I felt as if my mother was patting my cheeks lightly. The sound of waves of dry maple leaves getting crushed under my feet with every little step I take made me feel like dancing on them just so to make some music out of it. I was awed by the beauty of what was surrounding me even though I witnessed it daily. My woolen hat covered just the part of my head that it should have for the rest of it was to be the beautiful victim of the unfair nature which was so beautiful that day.
Along with Smit I measured the distance that lead us to the beautiful orchids on the other side of the woods. Step by step I moved on and so did Smit. Both of us walked randomly around and with our baskets in our hands just simply touched and smelled and felt all the apples that were surrounding us. Trees small and big, all around us and the number was uncountable. It was another of the normally uncommon evenings wherein Smit and I would simply go for a walk into the woods. Now since there have come so many apples on all the trees we thought why not just simply go and pick out a few.
Among the dry fallen trees on the ground which showed its gleaming presence everywhere, we made a little trail of ourselves. The benches camouflaged with all the leaves and twigs that had fallen on and around it. It felt as if the benches were calling all people in the garden to come and “Actually sit in the lap of Mother Nature”. The squirrels and other birds that were chirping here and there and feeding on the apples and nuts symbolized happiness in little things just like the extra sachets of seasonings that come with a pizza.
The little rabbits and rodents that were running around as if telling each other “catch me if you can” and picking up on bits of fruits and insects and worms, all that these animals could get a hold off.
The apples lay hanging from the branches of the trees. A few so short, that I could literally hit them with my head. Big, red, ripe and very sweet and juicy apples were hanging all above my head. I am no Newton that I’d discover anything but still, surely wished that the apples fall on my head, for the more I felt them, the better I felt. My basket suddenly started to feel smaller for the amount of apples I wanted to take back with me started to grow exponentially in my mind. I suddenly remember how I used to go with my mother to just see the apples fruit off the tree daily when I was young. I would simply not down the process and would shout gladly at seeing those little apples grow off the branches and me finally going to be able to pluck them off those branches in a few couple of weeks’ times.
Apple picking has been one of my all time favourite activities which have been an integral part of my life ever since I started to understand things. Apples aren’t just fruits to me but they are a soul pacifier. I talk to apples, sing songs with them, dance with them, plus share with them everything about my day. Apples and I are like thanksgiving and turkey. One is incomplete without the other. Ever since our childhood we have Smit and I have gone apple picking in the peak of the season and we have picked up so many apples that our baskets started to weigh us down with all the apples that were stacked up in it.
I guess the same was going to happen this year. Smit and I were already with our baskets and I guess the same thing was going to happen to us this year as well. But this year I have not decorated my basket a little differently. Every year the basket that I bring in here is heavily decorated with very small stones and pearls that are often in a specific design but this year I have simply kept the basket as it is just covered with newspaper and a plain cloth laid at the base of the basket. I really don’t know why but I did not feel like decorating the basket. I guess this year the shine of the apples is enough for to catch the attention of everybody. These apples are really gonna be “the apple of everybody’s eyes”. This time I’m gonna ask them how come they’ve grown so fat and I'm also gonna appreciate their sweet taste. Even though, I do it every year. Oh come on.
I really fancy how in these apples have I found friends that I firstly talk to and then I eat them. Oh! Only god knows. I talk with the apples, sing, dance with them, and read them stories when they are half ripe. I cannot control myself from not plucking them off sometimes even if they are just half ripe!
Sometimes I feel these apples are my pets, I grow them, pamper them, and then finally rest them in my stomach either in the form of apple pie, or apple squash, apple smoothie, or any of the apple dishes that I feel like. It’s always like a sweet slaughter of all my preciously grown apples. We the people of countryside have a different level of attachment with plants and trees that not all the people living in the city can understand.
And here it begins again. We were ready to do one of our all time favourite activities. Our baskets waiting for to be filled with the apples, which are again ready to be plucked off from the trees, on which they have been hanging for so long. The story comes to life again and we are ready. Smit and I with our baskets awaiting to be ornamented with precious jewels that hang in front of our eyes.
Our very own Easter hunt begins.