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.

An Eternal Love

Every year we take this particular drive to see the fall colors. We often end up taking it twice because the first time we go too early. I am quite certain that we could eliminate this redundancy if we did a wee bit of research before hand. Each year one of us mentions this little fact and each year we both look away and pretend not to have heard a thing. We like this drive. We take our time and will often take mysterious side roads for no apparent reason other than curiosity. It adds a sense of adventure and discovery to our little drives.

We follow rivers and waterfalls to cut through mountain passes and ski resorts. There are sweeping vistas of the richest greens cushioning fierce and rugged mountain peaks with crystal clear waterfalls seeming to pour from every rock and crevice. When winter’s cold hand turns them to ice it will look as though the mountain is crying diamonds.

Passing downward we again follow along the rapid flowing river as it winds its way through the mountain pass. There are so many places to stop and marvel that it is impossible to imagine having to pick only a few. We always turn our heads to grab a quick peak at Deception Falls. That is an entirely different trip though so we have to pass it by on this one. Spring time is the best for that one when the snow is melting the falls are rushing and roaring so loud you can barely the person next to you. But this is fall so we just give it a fond glance as we pass by.

The scenery on this drive is enough to break your heart. You almost have to wonder at the purpose of such beauty. Edward O. Wilson suggested that the world was beautiful to us because we were creatures of it. In his book Consilience he connects science to beauty in such an elegant and reverent way saying that everything about who and what we are is created to perceive this beauty. It is as though our very existence were meant to rejoice in the beauty around us. I am gratefully not finding it difficult to perform this portion of my human duties.

The river winds along chasing rocks and fallen trees as we follow it to the valley below. The trees and shrubs along the way are bursting with an unimaginable explosion of color and seeing the sunlight through the autumn leaves always makes me cry. It is as if these two elements were always meant for one another. It is a beautiful love affair between them, perfect and eternal. I feel small against this spectacle. It is one of those blessed times that I am granted a clearer perspective of my own humanity.

Of course fall is one of those cozy up to the fire times full of pumpkins, hay bales and hot apple cider. It is warm and pleasant with the sweet melancholy of sepia toned photographs and faded summer flowers. There is a moment however just before that which touches my soul deeper than any memory or personal thought ever could. It is this beautiful dance between eternal lovers. When the sunlight hits those leaves its like there’s no one else in the room. It’s just them, each one glowing in the other’s gaze. And so we stop at this little grove every year to watch this dance between the sun and the trees. There will be plenty of time for pumpkins and cider but for right now I am content to watch a beautiful love story play out another chapter in this golden romance.


We will follow this river to our next stop in Leavenworth for some Bavarian fun and then onto the Wenatchee orchards for tree fresh apples and pears. There may even be some grapes left at the vineyards.