When I was a child, we had a neighbor, "Miss Lossie", who had lots of apple trees. We kept an eye on those trees and once the apples started turning, we'd go ask her for apples. She told us we could have all we wanted of the ones that had fallen on the ground.
We, being me and my six siblings would pick up all we could carry. But I must confess, if she turned her back and went back inside, we'd try to knock down some of those still on the tree. Those always looked the best.
Children in the country do not roam around like we once did. We knew where every plum tree, every apple tree,every pear tree, every pecan tree, on every ditch bank, on every farm that joined our Granddaddy's farm were. And sometimes the neighbor's children joined us in our search for those tempting fruits.
My Grandmother had a hard apple tree. That was the last one we went after. The apple above reminds me of her apple tree. The boys trucking tobacco used the path where this tree grew. Each trip back and forth to the field another apple was picked until the boy had all he wanted.
These apple trees are planted near the road. There is also a grapevine out there. I have never seen anyone near them. I told my husband, I had seen the day when none of those apples would have grown this big. I would have eaten them all by now. Taste changes as we get older, I guess!