Moonlit Apples

Please do not think I have forgotten the national situation... but I'm sure that Her Majesty would not want us all to spend the next 10 days in a state of inertia. I plan to write my daily blog as usual, recognising there are other things going on in the world.... Did you ever read this poem at school? 

Moonlit Apples 

At the top of the house the apples are laid in rows,
And the skylight lets the moonlight in, and those
Apples are deep-sea apples of green. There goes
A cloud on the moon in the autumn night.

A mouse in the wainscot scratches, and scratches, and then
There is no sound at the top of the house of men
Or mice; and the cloud is blown, and the moon again
Dapples the apples with deep-sea light.

They are lying in rows there, under the gloomy beams;
On the sagging floor; they gather the silver streams
Out of the moon, those moonlit apples of dreams,
And quiet is the steep stair under.

In the corridors under there is nothing but sleep.
And stiller than ever on orchard boughs they keep
Tryst with the moon, and deep is the silence, deep
On moon-washed apples of wonder.

John Drinkwater [1917]

I thought about it again on Friday, when my brother and SIL brought me a huge crate containing all the apples from their trees [they moved house yesterday] I didn't have time to deal with them immediately, so last Saturday, Bob and I put them into store. They are temporarily laid out in a well ventilated space [the old garage] using 5 bricks, and that free fireguard to make a shelf.

They are sweet enough to eat now, but I shall prepare some of them for using in the winter. Maybe freeze them, or possibly make some chutney.

John Drinkwater was born in Leytonstone, London, but later moved to Birmingham and worked in insurance. He was one of the "Dymock Poets" who met in Dymock in Gloucestershire  - they included Rupert Brooke, Robert Frost and Edward Thomas. Sadly the group broke up in 1914 at the start of WW1.

There's an added twist - on Saturday afternoon, I met a friend in the village who grew up in Leytonstone, and I said I'd been given some apples and "the apples are laid in rows" She immediately said "John Drinkwater - Moonlit Apples - he came from Leytonstone, Angela" 

When I told her that was why I was sure she would know the poem, she was really pleased. And said when I get home from Manchester, I must call round and borrow her fancy apple-peeling machine, to speed up the preparation process! I have such thoughtful friends. Thanks Judy