There is an apple tree in my yard. The last two years it bore little sour crab apples. Last spring I asked the tree to make larger, edible apples. I was surprised and pleased this summer to have found large nice red apples. My house mate made two apples pies so far and beautiful apples are still dropping into late November.
I think anyone could do this; I’ve no special talents, although I am a practical person.
HERE STANDS THE PARTIAL CORPSE OF THE APPLE TREE WHICH HAD THE SWEETEST APPLES OF ANY TREE I EVER TASTED.
MURDERED DISPASSIONATELY BY THE MANAGEMENT AND GROUNDS CREW.
Apple Tree and baby apple trees
June 6, 2012
Some years ago I lived by the beach and went down a trail to do yoga every morning. There were sticker bushes alongside the trail, reminding me of the wild blackberry bushes that I used pick from as a child.
Occasionally, while walking up or down the trail I said to myself “I wish these bushes were blackberry bushes that I could eat from.” A few years later there were tasty juicy black berries on those bushes. They weren’t exactly like the blackberries I knew from childhood nor were they like any other wild blackberries I had seen anywhere else.
But they tasted good! Every morning in the fall I’d pick half a bowl to eat with my oatmeal.
On the same location there was an alternate meditation spot, a large log on a spot above the beach surrounded by pine trees. At times several people would meditate there. Pine needles covered the ground and nothing green grew there. It was a lovely spot.
One time someone suggested it would be nice if there were some flowers around. We all agreed and meditated on it for a couple of minutes. Next spring there was a flower growing up all by itself right behind the meditation log. A visitor said that was a rare flower which only bloomed every seven years. There itwas happily blooming! Next year there were two flowers, and the year after that three or four.
In December, tomatoes don’t usually grow outside in mid California. My little tomato potted plant produced two luscious ones in early summer, then nothing all the rest of the summer and fall.
There were flowers, though, and my associate reminded me that bees need to pollinate the flowers in order for tomatoes to bud. So I immediately sat down and meditated/visualized/invited the bees to come.
I noticed bees buzzing around two days later for only one day. About a week later tiny tomatoes appeared. Two weeks later I counted five.
Four of the five became larger and eventually turned red. Meanwhile, a cold snap crisped the tomato plant. But the tomatoes are still reddening I ate them, they were much better than those hard, tough skinned ones sold in the supermarkets. How Divine!