Orchard: Four Seasons

The heat was oppressive. The air shimmered over the hills. Tobias, now a teenager, sweat through his shirt as he mowed the aisles between the rows. It was hard, thankless work. There was no fruit to eat yet, only the endless management of water and pests.

This was the season of anxiety and hope. Elias and Tobias watched the weather with hawk eyes. A late frost could turn the blossoms black in an hour, ending the season before it began.

"Tastes like sunshine stored in a jar," he smiled.

arrives in a blush of pink and white as apple, cherry, and pear trees erupt into bloom. The air hums with bees, and the orchard floor is carpeted with wild violets. Visitors wander the petal-lined paths, breathing in the sweet, fragile hope of the season.

The first apple of the season was a ritual. Elias picked a Honeycrisp, polished it on his flannel shirt until it gleamed like a ruby, and bit into it. The crunch echoed through the quiet rows. Juice ran down his chin.

Elias paused, rubbing a gloved thumb over a bud. "To hurt is to wake up, Toby. If we don’t cut away the excess, the tree spends all its energy on wood and leaves. We cut to force it to focus. We clear the way for the light. Winter is for preparation, even when it looks like death."