In a perfect marriage of reds and greens, in blushes of baby pinks and dappled hues, the apples trees self-decorate in celebration of harvest time.
In reds that honour the rising sun, that have soaked in each blushing sunset, comes the bounty of the apple trees.
The apple tree from silken petals to sweet globes, from brown wands to leafy bows, is part of the poetry of our landscape.
The apple tree is its own solar system in the constellation of our blessed summers, each apple is a bright star born upon broad branches.
Under the sunrise, the apples glowed more rosy than they do in the dayshine. The branches of each tree spread out as if so proud of the bounty they brought and sweetness given within each one. It was a party of colours, of chaos and order, of a beauty that sprung from simple seeds blessed with mud and rain.
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