A local treasure

There are piles of fruit all around town, fallen from the giving arms of trees planted long ago. Seventy years ago, America and the world plunged into a depression that urged the planting of gardens, trees and liquor stills. People had to do without or with less (poor people, that is). Fruit trees were prized, carefully tended and harvested. These trees are living reminders that even though we are at the whims of international bankers and criminals, for twenty bucks and some patient tending, several bucket loads of apples, pears, plums and cherrys can be savored, traded or preserved. They are a treasure laying idle.
Soon the trees will let go of their leaves and a nip will be in the air. I am fluffing-up my blankets and wondering if Costco has merino wool blend socks in stock yet. I have taken to buying about six pair every fall and they disappear into the vast hole where socks and keys and money go.