Spring brings blossoms, summer brings fruit, and fall brings libations!
Last weekend some friends invited us to help them pick and press apples. We picked pounds and pounds of apples, brought by the wheelbarrow full to the press. Then we washed and dropped the apples into a mechanical chopper. The chopped apples were then put into an old-fashioned crank juice press. We took turns washing, chopping and cranking – filling jugs of apple juice to freeze for drinking later. Then we juiced more, about 20 gallons more in fact. This juice is now bubbling and brewing and becoming hard cider. This process is way beyond my skills, I’m leaving it up to a master mixer, but since I volunteered to pick and press… this fall I’ll get to taste. Not bad pay!
I have a years worth of workshops lined up on the calendar go to my website to see what’s happening and how to sign up! http://lisathorpe.com/classes.html
I took a walk this morning with my dog Lucky. My goal was to exercise the dog and myself and get on with my day, but as I powered through the antique apple orchard here on the back property the floating petals of the apple blooms had other ideas for me. I hadn’t even noticed the blooms on the trees, my eyes so intent on the path that had it not been for the delicate petals pasted to the muddy path I might have barreled through without looking at all. But the petals persisted so I stopped, turned off the music in my iPod, and looked and listened to the ancient wisdom of the trees and the birds. The bird chorus was dazzling, each species of bird greeting the day and praising the beauty of the apple blossoms with their own song, some sweet and lilting some bold and commanding. The old apple trees are nearly a century old, gnarled and twisted, broken and worn, but still coursing with the same old desires to burst forth from the long bare winter dressed in such finery that even Downtown Abby’s Dowager would cluck her approval. These old ladies of the orchard know how to put on a show. Soon the white will turn to green as the pattern of life and destiny wind around another year. These old branches will shelter and feed the chattering birds that flit about the orchard fulfilling their own cycle, true to their own destiny.
While observing these gracious trees I can’t help but think of the human journey, the patterns of fallow, blossom and fruit that run through our lives like a twisting river that wends it way through the river valley, curving to touch the east and west hills but ever flowing to it’s final destination – the sea. This week, here at The Bishop’s Ranch, we are honored to host the Threshold Choir. Threshold Choir has chapters all over the country and is growing internationally as well. Their mission is to sing at the bedsides of those at the threshold of life, those who are terminally ill; they bring comfort, company, and caring through song. Here at the Ranch representatives from various chapters come to share, and renew and bring back that renewal to their chapters. We are honored to have them among us. I bring them up because they seem to me to be like the birds in the ancient apple orchard, singing the journey on its way with a lilting song of praise, comfort and joy.
I was gratified to learn this week from a women at the conference that someone in her chapter found out about Threshold Choir through one of my past blog posts. It is wonderful to know that I may have played a small part in someone’s journey thank you for sharing. Link to Threshold Choir