Mrs. Wigglebottom and I went to Mt. Olive Cemetery in Clarksville. Mrs. Wigglebottom had to stay in the car because the neighbors’ Doberman was out and unhappy about our arrival. It was beautiful and they’re doing great work to preserve it. It’s weird, though–the trees. Right? You know those folks were buried in pine boxes. And the trees grow right out of them. Literally, the people of the cemetery stand in it.
It makes me want to remember to be buried under a tree when I am old enough to go.
So, as long-time readers know, I have been kind of mulling over this whole “heirloom apple” thing. I love the idea of giving space to old strains of apples to help preserve them. And we have the space.
The Butcher and I talked about this some at lunch and he’s thinking they’d be an interesting addition to the other side of the creek, since we don’t really do anything with that space and it’s sunny.
So, I think this year, I’m going to buy a couple of trees for Christmas. I’d like them to be ones known to have grown in Tennessee back in the day and that hold up as well for eating as baking. I could order them online, but I’m happy to give my money to someone local if someone local sells heirloom apple seedlings. Does anyone know?
Tiny Cat Pants 