2 mins long, no bands, no faces, lots of cider :-)
Frank Naish (Oldest Cider Maker) have passed peacefully away in his sleep aged 89 5/2/1924 29/11/13
A poem for a man whom I had the pleasure to meet and photograph on a number of occasions. commiserations to all his family and friends
After Apple Picking
My long two-pointed ladder’s sticking through a tree
Toward heaven still.
And there’s a barrel that I didn’t fill
Beside it, and there may be two or three
Apples I didn’t pick upon some bough.
But I am done with apple-picking now.
Essence of winter sleep is on the night,
The scent of apples; I am drowsing off.
I cannot shake the shimmer from my sight
I got from looking through a pane of glass
I skimmed this morning from the water-trough,
And held against the world of hoary grass.
It melted, and I let it fall and break.
But I was well
Upon my way to sleep before it fell,
And I could tell
What form my dreaming was about to take.
Magnified apples appear and reappear,
Stem end and blossom end,
And every fleck of russet showing clear.
My instep arch not only keeps the ache,
It keeps the pressure of a ladder-round.
And I keep hearing from the cellar-bin
That rumbling sound
Of load on load of apples coming in.
For I have had too much
Of apple-picking; I am overtired
Of the great harvest I myself desired.
There were ten thousand thousand fruit to touch,
Cherish in hand, lift down, and not let fall,
That struck the earth,
No matter if not bruised, or spiked with stubble,
Went surely to the cider-apple heap
As of no worth.
One can see what will trouble
This sleep of mine, whatever sleep it is.
Were he not gone,
The woodchuck could say whether it’s like his
Long sleep, as I describe its coming on,
Or just some human sleep.
Michelin, medium bitter sweet with soft tannin
Tagged Apple Orchard., Cider Apple, cider making, Forgotten Fruit, Frank Naish, Neil Phillips Photography, Oldest Cider Maker, Orchard, The Scrumping Project, Willsbridge Apple Day, winter sleep
Spent the morning setting up a ‘hide’ in the orchard where I optimistically intend to film Deer. Afterwards I shot some stills of apples waiting to be harvested, glowing in the last of the autumn colour.
I took a break from filming the harvesting at Thatchers cider last week to take some pics. The apples were Tremlett’s I think, waiting to be scooped up to looking ripe ‘n’ rosy in the autumn Light.
A poem for apple day from Somerset poet james Crowden
The orchard first snugly
Round our shoulders –
Like an old overcoat.
Hard pressed, the stream of juice
Runs madly from the cheese –
Autumn out of control
Invisibly we merge
With the barrels –
Are sucked into their darkness
Their roundness catapults us
Beyond the common place –
A world apart.
All at once we are enveloped
By the brooding silence –
Ten thousand gallons.
On 6th Oct we held the 2nd annual Wrington apple day on the village green outside the pub.
Myself and a bunch of friends from the village helped to organize this ramshackle day, which we do for the love of orchards, the making of fine pure juice and of course the drinking of cider. Everybody mucks in, the sun always shines and we go home tired but very happy.
Wrington photographer Bob Bowen kindly took a selection of images which are on the slideshow below. Enjoy
Posted in Oct 2013
Tagged Apple, apple day, Apple Juice, apple pressing, Apple trees, Cider, cider making, Forgotten Fruit, Neil Phillips Photography, North Somerset, Scrumping, Thatchers Cider, The Plough, The Scrumping Project, Wrington, Wrington Apple Day
Congratulations to Thatchers Cider for winning the 2013 brewing award for their 2011 ‘Vintage’ cider. Martin Thatcher was photographed in the historic oak vat room.