The Appless Tree

Once upon a time

there was a woman who loved trees.

When she, her husband, & three boys

moved to a new home,

she decided to plant at least one new tree

in their yard every year.

By the time she & her husband had five boys,

their yard was a veritable forest.

Still, she kept planting trees.

One year she picked out a tree which had

three different types of apple branches.

It was four years old.

By the time it was seven

it would begin producing fruit.

She brought it home

& had her husband & sons

pick out a good place to plant it.

They searched

but could not find a single spot

where the sunlight would reach it.

Still, in an open spot,

they dug a hole, & planted it

between the swing set & the house,

near a towering cottonwood & pine.

They watered & fed it

& waited for the third year to come.

But when the third year came

there were no apples.

“Give it time,” they thought.

“Sometimes transplanting a tree sets it back a little.”

They waited a fourth year…,

…a fifth…,

…sixth…,

…seventh…,

…& tenth.

After fifteen years they decided

it was an “appless” tree.

Still, they enjoyed the tree,

though it did not help much in games

of hide & seek…,

…nor was it much good for climbing.

By now the family had grown

with one more boy & two little girls.

They spent hours playing tag around the tree

& trying to touch its leaves with their feet

while swinging.

They watched birds build their nests…

…& squirrels scamper through its branches.

And they marveled at the continued “appless-ness”

of their “appless” tree.

One spring,

after all of the children had grown & left home,

their father called each one to tell them

that their “appless” tree was covered with blossoms.

Even so, there were no apples.

Still, the “appless” tree continued to grow

until, finally, it grew tall enough to be kissed by the sun.

The next spring,

it was again covered in blossoms.

At long last, it bore fruit

—one single apple atop its highest branch

where it might at least for a moment each day

know the sun’s caress.

And then, the no-longer-“appless” tree

let its leaves fall…

…& died.

The next year

the husband/father cut down the tree for firewood.

As the family gathered for the holidays,

they enjoyed both the warmth of the fireplace

& sweet scent of apple wood.

The apple?

I like to think that

the birds, squirrels & field mice

shared its fruit…

& scattered its seeds,

many in places

with good soil

& plenty of sun…,

…such that by now

the apples produced

by that one “appless” tree

are too many to count.