7 Drinking Apples

Clare and Dante

 

The history of politics class proved very informative. In the States Cl are hadn ’ t learned much through Monitor searches, and Ana ’ s classes had focused on teaching the basics of seeds and planting, vegetable identification, and gardening vocabulary. So it was interesting to learn how and why things had changed and important as well. To understand how to get back from somewhere, you have to know the path that got you there in the first place.

“ We learned about Nipungyo today, ” Clare stated at supper.

John scowled.

“ You know they still exist, ” she continued. “ We didn ’ t get to the part about why we don ’ t eat fresh vegetables, though. How did that happen? ” She paused. “ If you don ’ t mind my asking. ” Clare knew Marissa wasn ’ t fond of answering a lot of questions. It was one of the regrets she had about her hosts.

Marissa clicked her tongue. “ I can ’ t believe they didn ’ t cover that—”

“ We ran out of time. Some people kept interrupting . . . ”

John spoke. “ Simple. Bottom line: It ’ s about money. It ’ s always about money. If they can get away with it, they do. Unfortunately, your people didn ’ t stand up long and hard enough to win the fight. Canada was going the same direction but enough people rose up. ”

It wasn ’ t much of an answer but given the emotion sizzling under his words, Clare decided not to press. “ Oh, ” she said.

“ Dante, would you like more gravy? Sweetie, pass your brother the gravy.”

Clare told herself there would be other days. E ven if Stan never lectured on it again, she knew he was open to questions. Plus, maybe she could ask another class member.

 

It was cold. Too cold to be outside, even at ten in the morning. And especially on a Saturday. Clare, in her fluffy pink robe, was just finishing a bowl of hot oatmeal for breakfast.

“ Did you forget? ” John teased. “ Go on and get dressed now. January cider is the best. ”

Cider? Cider? What did that mean again?

“ Come on, we have a full bin of apples that ’ s been sitting in storage getting sweeter and sweeter. Marissa hates anything go to waste. She ’ s already out in the barn doing it all herself. ”

“ Where ’ s Dante? ”

“ Oh, he ’ s with her. But, you know, he ’ s kinda little. ‘ Course, he was a good worker last fall; credit where credit ’ s due. ”

“Ohh, cider .” Clare remembered now . Cider was juice made from crushing and squeezing apples. The Woods had their own small apple press. It was Clare and Dante ’ s job to load the apples in and then keep up with the juice as it ran out. After that, they carried the cider to the house in buckets and canned it in jars . It was a small family machine, for home use only. The cider for selling in the fall was manufactured elsewhere with more modern equipment . Th is little cider press was more work, but according to the Woods, much easier than the old wooden machine they had used as children.

John loved telling Dante stories of how cider was made “ in the old days. ” H ow they crank ed a large wooden handle attached to giant iron gears while the apples were fed into the chute, sometimes one by one, and crushed and shredded and dropped into a bottomless bucket . After that, the ground apples were pressed and squeezed, the juice flowing like a river into the pail below. All of it done wit h manual labor. The Woods had a few pictures of the old machine, but the children were unimpressed. Clare and Dante loved drinking the cider and that was all that mattered. While the Juice back home was tasty, it had always come from small, square boxes and sort of had a flavor of small, square boxes. To have picked the apples off the trees themselves , and then to drink the juice from those very apples—it was a completely different thing.

It was drinking apples.