The author, Susan Lundy, with one of her recently planted Cox’s Orange Pippin trees in the spring of 2012.
PHOTO: DANICA LUNDY
On Christmas morning 2011, Bruce led me to the back porch where he’d wrapped a cluster of three young Cox’s Orange Pippin trees in a bright red ribbon. A few days later, clad in gumboots and rain gear, we tromped out back and amid the mild drizzle of a West Coast December, dug holes and planted the trees. It wasn’t quite that simple, as every hole we shovelled immediately pooled with water and we spent most of the next hour digging trenches to drain the garden area. It felt like playing in the mud! Later, we collapsed inside, mud caked, refreshed from the tingle of wet air on our skin, and exuberant from “playing” in nature. A windstorm blew up in the night and first thing the next morning, we were up, outside, and inspecting the trees, regarded now with the nurturing reverence given to offspring.
I love the image of those fledgling trees in my backyard juxtaposed against the towering, grand old trees I’ve encountered over the last year. I get it. I understand the inspiration, the nostalgia, and the connection with our past and present to which these trees link us.
When I asked Jane Lighthall on Denman Island, “How and why did you become interested in heritage apples?” I was moved by the poetry of her response: “When [you] visit Denman Island you climb the hill from the ferry and take the main fork to the right where ancient apple orchards line the road. In winter, their big old bones stand regally and in season, the trees are often laden. The presence of these beauties certainly piqued my interest.”
By growing heritage apple trees, Jane and her husband, Larry Lepore, are carrying on a family tradition—Jane’s grandparents were pioneers in Oliver, BC, in the late 1920s, and began an orcharding tradition that carried on into the next generation.
“Unbeknownst to us, the land that we bought bordered on what was once an orchard of one thousand trees planted at the turn of the last century by a pioneering family, and many of these trees are still producing. Denman has several such original orchards with trees over a hundred years old that have truly become a legacy and an inspiration.”
The author, Susan Lundy, with one of her recently planted Cox’s Orange Pippin trees in the spring of 2012.
PHOTO: DANICA LUNDY
Their customers come from “all walks of life”—apple enthusiasts, some “just discovering the old varieties, [others who] have long been growing apples and just need a few more trees to complete their orchards.” Some want a tree or two for their backyard, “but more and more people want to grow their own food.”
And this is how the apple trees of our past will feature in our future. This is why heritage apples will slowly, steadily re-emerge. We will rediscover heritage apples at festivals, farm stands, markets, and small, real-food grocery stores. Through the efforts of people like Clay Whitney, Gabor Botar, and the Brae Island Park Board we will recognize the living links—the very deep roots—to our past that tower majestically above us, sometimes lost amid the rampant chaos of overgrown orchards, other times threatened by urban development. Slowly, we will learn that the beauty of an apple is more than skin deep. We will bite into oddly shaped orbs, maybe with brown russeting on their shoulders, maybe small, green, and twisted—not big, red, and shiny—and discover that taste is actually much more than an undressing of our eyes. Red-fleshed apples will move beyond a chef-driven novelty and into our homes as we revel in their flavour and health benefits. And as we rediscover cider, a beverage that has much more structure and excitement than the common drink found cooling in cans at the liquor store, the trees of our past will grow in greater significance.
But ultimately, heritage apples will morph into “today’s apples” because we care more and more about where our food comes from, who is growing it, and how far it has travelled to get to our plates. The apples of our past will become the apples of our eyes.
Back at home, spring approached and we eagerly awaited the first bud that said our trees were thriving. Someday, I will pluck my first homegrown Cox’s Orange Pippin. Maybe, just maybe, I will use them to bake my first apple pie. But for sure, I will join the ranks of apple people hunting down new flavours from old varieties. I have that gleam in my eye. I am an apple person.