Washington Apples

Just outside of Leavenworth is the Wenatchee Valley. I suppose technically the town of Leavenworth is within the Wenatchee Valley but somehow it manages to stand on its own, laying claim to a more mountainous identity than fecund farm land. That’s OK with me. A two minute drive around the corner and I am thrust deep into ample hillsides richly covered in sweeping orchards. Swaths of delicious fruit trees and lush grape vines cover hillsides that look down into a wide sparkling river cutting through the valley floor.
As far as the eye can see there are fields upon fields of trees and vines. Seemingly random impromptu fruit stands appear along the road side with upturned fruit crates for tables and simple awnings for a roof. Magic marker signs of cardboard announce the enticing farmer’s market prices and the variety is almost too wide to choose from. Samples of delicious fruit are handed out like free candy at a birthday party.

There are makeshift shelves lined with homemade jellies and jams. Recipes for pies and sauces compete for space on wooden tables covered with red checkerboard cloth. There are no green aprons or pristine white smocks of the conglomerate grocery here. There is just some member of the family who came in from the orchard that day to man the fruit stand.

The worn weathered hands of farmers hold out sugary slices of their hard work. They offer easy conversation and helpful information about their product. When I take a sample from their hand I know that this is the result of years of hard work and dedication. I can smell the soil on their skin and see the shimmering sun in their eyes. The satisfaction on my face as that sweet juicy fruit hits my tongue is their reward, their pride and joy. I am happy to pay them. In the performance of this simple transaction there is the completion of a circle that is often broken by the glare of florescent lights and plastic bags.

The markets and impromptu stands each have their own personality. Some are simply upturned crates with cardboard boxes and a lawn chair. Others have vinyl awnings hung over jarred treats and long wooden tables. While still others offer colorful banners beside dried corn stalks and hay bales complete with petting zoos and miniature cow trains for the kiddies delight. I love them all. We often ask if we can collect fallen apples for the horses back home and they always give us some bags just before asking if we’d like a box instead. I am so grateful that I live close enough to visit and soak all of this in.

I have been waxing poetic on the glories of fruit fresh off the tree and all things farmy but have left out one important element of the area and that would be the Applets and Cotlets Capital. What this means I have no idea. They make some kind of fruit based candies here and apparently they are quite famous for it. I don’t understand it. I don’t care for the candies so I don’t go. I just wanted to mention that these guys seem to know their Applets and Cotlets stuff and have really made a name for themselves since the early 1900s. The town of Cashmere is where you can find Liberty Orchards and take a factory tour of the Applet/Cotlet production. It looks pretty cool and I know a lot of people really love these candies. If you like this sort of confection, you couldn’t find a better place to visit. I just wanted to make sure that my personal preference for um, chocolate didn’t short change any of you fruit candy loving peeps out there. Just keeping it real folks.

There is a little stand that we frequent because they are one of the select few that grow the Cameo apple. This is my favorite apple. It is sweet, crisp and bright in flavor. It is in general an all around perfect eating apple. During this season we took a few trips over to the orchards and stopped at this particular stand for some of those Cameo apples. The farmer there is a sweet gracious man who is always eager to offer fresh fruit slices and tips for the best apple sauce combinations. On this last visit the gentleman was not at his stand. There was no one to be seen anywhere around. Just the highway and the dirt lot with fruit trees going off into the distance. Cue crickets. We had come a long way for some Cameos and Boscs so we were reluctant to leave without them. Then we noticed the cash box on the table. Sitting there simple and alone was an unassuming little silver box with a slit in the top. The man’s cash box. It wasn’t bolted down. The fruit wasn’t locked in Lucite boxes. It was just sitting out there in wooden crates with plastic bags hanging from the side. A sign hung on the wall with price per pound written in black marker. We smiled and began filling our bags. We weighed and reweighed our bounty on the old metal scales and then counted out our money. We folded the bills neatly and slipped them into the little slot that represented so much.

For many this kind of trust is a common affair but I come from a world of mistrust and suspicion in which the worst is assumed and “get them before they get you” is the code of the day. While I have never been able to assimilate this defensive attitude I often worried that I was hopelessly outnumbered and desperately naïve. I don’t consider this a gift of trust toward myself or even others so much as I see it as a gift of hope for the world I live in. It is an act of faith in the better nature of man and for that I am truly grateful.

PS. For those of you who are local: Stockings Garden and Nursery is just outside of Monroe but they get their produce from the Wenatchee Valley. I like their display and they sell Cameo apples.