Today in the orchard
(Report by Skylar.) I spent much of the morning down at the Finley Lane Nursery walking around to check for apples that are ripe or close to it and picking up the drops that I found. I also took the time to gawk at the beauty around me. So much is alive right now, and it’s all growing fast. The watermelons are too large for me to grab with one hand—though out of fear of snapping their stems I don’t pick them up — and the pumpkins are substantially larger than that. The next crop of plums have turned a pearlescent pink. We’re surrounded by a diversity of color, shape, texture, and size.
A handful of Centennial Crab drops in the Finley Lane Nursery, August 19, 2025.
Taste is another giant category of diversity that exists in the apple kingdom, and one I am just at the cusp of getting to know. The little details that make every variety unique from every other - how they change as they ripen, as they’re stored, fermented, cooked, and so on. How they can be measured using well equipped taste buds and scientific efforts. But why should we bother breaking down the chemistry of apple taste and aroma? Why should we bother training our tastebuds to notice the nuances from bite to bite and sip to sip? I asked John this question. He answered in an analogy: the average person doesn’t know much about the structure and components that make music excellent, and they don’t need to in order to enjoy it. However, just about anyone can tell when that composer does not fully understand the makeup of the music. Surely, the cider maker, chef, or breeder benefits from a deeper understanding of apple taste and aroma. Training my brain and my palate to discern what I taste in an apple prompts me to slow down, to notice, and to appreciate. I could go around chomping every apple in sight and for the most part I would enjoy it, but I really start to fall in love with the apples when I get to taste them as the unique fruit that they are.
