![\"Apples\"](\"http:\/\/jeannehoadley.com\/Photo15\/wp-content\/gallery\/Autumn\/Apples.jpg\")
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After Apple-Picking<\/strong><\/p>\n <\/p>\n Today’s destination was the grower’s market which, as always, offered up a colorful array of compelling subjects. But the box of apples spoke to me most of fall so they got the nod for picture of the day. \u00a0And Robert Frost’s poem was a perfect fit. You can almost see him nodding off as he is writing. And feel the ladder’s rungs on your feet. And I was reminded of when I worked at the library when I was in college and we had a period when we would recall all the books checked out by faculty… and I would dream of books, carts and carts of books. Just as Frost would dream of apples after a day of picking.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" After Apple-Picking My long two-pointed ladder’s sticking through a tree\u00a0 Toward heaven still,\u00a0 And there’s a barrel that I didn’t fill\u00a0 Beside it, and there may be two or three\u00a0 Apples I didn’t pick upon some bough.\u00a0 But I am done with apple-picking now.\u00a0 Essence of winter sleep is on the night,\u00a0 The scent of … Continue reading Day 7 – Apples<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"ngg_post_thumbnail":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-775","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"post_mailing_queue_ids":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/jeannehoadley.com\/Photo15\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/775","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/jeannehoadley.com\/Photo15\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/jeannehoadley.com\/Photo15\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/jeannehoadley.com\/Photo15\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/jeannehoadley.com\/Photo15\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=775"}],"version-history":[{"count":4,"href":"https:\/\/jeannehoadley.com\/Photo15\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/775\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":779,"href":"https:\/\/jeannehoadley.com\/Photo15\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/775\/revisions\/779"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/jeannehoadley.com\/Photo15\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=775"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/jeannehoadley.com\/Photo15\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=775"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/jeannehoadley.com\/Photo15\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=775"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}My long two-pointed ladder’s sticking through a tree\u00a0<\/em><\/div>\nToward heaven still,\u00a0<\/em><\/div>\nAnd there’s a barrel that I didn’t fill\u00a0<\/em><\/div>\nBeside it, and there may be two or three\u00a0<\/em><\/div>\nApples I didn’t pick upon some bough.\u00a0<\/em><\/div>\nBut I am done with apple-picking now.\u00a0<\/em><\/div>\nEssence of winter sleep is on the night,\u00a0<\/em><\/div>\nThe scent of apples: I am drowsing off.\u00a0<\/em><\/div>\nI cannot rub the strangeness from my sight\u00a0<\/em><\/div>\nI got from looking through a pane of glass\u00a0<\/em><\/div>\nI skimmed this morning from the drinking trough\u00a0<\/em><\/div>\nAnd held against the world of hoary grass.\u00a0<\/em><\/div>\nIt melted, and I let it fall and break.\u00a0<\/em><\/div>\nBut I was well\u00a0<\/em><\/div>\nUpon my way to sleep before it fell,\u00a0<\/em><\/div>\nAnd I could tell\u00a0<\/em><\/div>\nWhat form my dreaming was about to take.\u00a0<\/em><\/div>\nMagnified apples appear and disappear,\u00a0<\/em><\/div>\nStem end and blossom end,\u00a0<\/em><\/div>\nAnd every fleck of russet showing clear.\u00a0<\/em><\/div>\nMy instep arch not only keeps the ache,\u00a0<\/em><\/div>\nIt keeps the pressure of a ladder-round.\u00a0<\/em><\/div>\nI feel the ladder sway as the boughs bend.\u00a0<\/em><\/div>\nAnd I keep hearing from the cellar bin\u00a0<\/em><\/div>\nThe rumbling sound\u00a0<\/em><\/div>\nOf load on load of apples coming in.\u00a0<\/em><\/div>\nFor I have had too much\u00a0<\/em><\/div>\nOf apple-picking: I am overtired\u00a0<\/em><\/div>\nOf the great harvest I myself desired.\u00a0<\/em><\/div>\nThere were ten thousand thousand fruit to touch,\u00a0<\/em><\/div>\nCherish in hand, lift down, and not let fall.\u00a0<\/em><\/div>\nFor all\u00a0<\/em><\/div>\nThat struck the earth,\u00a0<\/em><\/div>\nNo matter if not bruised or spiked with stubble,\u00a0<\/em><\/div>\nWent surely to the cider-apple heap\u00a0<\/em><\/div>\nAs of no worth.\u00a0<\/em><\/div>\nOne can see what will trouble\u00a0<\/em><\/div>\nThis sleep of mine, whatever sleep it is.\u00a0<\/em><\/div>\nWere he not gone,\u00a0<\/em><\/div>\nThe woodchuck could say whether it’s like his\u00a0<\/em><\/div>\nLong sleep, as I describe its coming on,\u00a0<\/em><\/div>\nOr just some human sleep.<\/em><\/div>\n<\/div>\n\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0– <\/em>Robert Frost\u00a0<\/em><\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n