“Train yourself to find the blessing in everything.” ~ Unknown
june apples
Mom and dad have a June Apple tree in their backyard. When I moved next door 14 years ago, their yard had at least three fruit trees. The owner back then used to teach violin to children, and I would often see them climbing the trees. This apple tree is the only fruit tree that remains, and this year it is weighed down with fruit. Every time I mow mom and dad’s yard I’m transported back to my childhood at Malone where our neighbors Mary and Vernon Vance had a June apple tree. I ate my share of those little green apples, enough to give myself a belly ache more than once. The rotting fruit on the ground was fodder for yellow jackets, right smart little stingers for country kids playing barefoot. Ouch. We – me and the three Vance kids – climbed the tree constantly, the tree that Vernon so carefully pruned each fall, its branches low enough for our child arms to reach, sturdy enough to hold our collective weight. As we near Father’s Day this year I am reminded of Vernon and his June apple tree, his gentle nature, and how he could tell us to get out of the tree without inflicting shame on us for acting on our natural inclinations. He was a man of few words, but his silence was never unkind. Quite the opposite. All these Hallmark Holidays – like mother’s day and father’s day – as thoughtful as they were intended to be, can instead be quite lonesome for folks whose parents have moved on, or mothers and fathers who have outlived their children. I’m fortunate that both of my parents are living, but many friends and family are not, and I find myself increasingly thinking of them with every holiday that passes. This year I am thinking of Bev, Steve, and Patty Vance and their dad’s June apple tree that gave us years of safe play and belly aches and innocent laughter.
Vernon Vance: January 23, 1933 – June 16, 2021
june apples 2
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