F=G(m1*m2)/(r*r)

An apple fell on my head yesterday. I paused for a moment in case it were to spark the formation of a ground-breaking advance in physical theory in my brain. It didn’t. I picked up the apple and put it in my wheelbarrow, where it nestled amongst hundreds of its compatriots. It’s apple harvest time and Pilsdon’s two orchards have had a joyously abundant growing season judging by the weight of fruit on the branches. 

I have become an apple processing specialist in the short time I have been back at Pilsdon Community. It’s a highly technical field that only those with the right “appletitude” (as we joke in the apple industry) can succeed. Whole books could be written on this subject but in essence what I do is take the apples from the tree (or beneath the tree for those which have already “descended”, i.e. dropped off) and then route them through to one of five possible end products.

First there are the Eaters, which are those placed on the meal tables. These are taken from the trees on an as-needed basis. Secondly there are the Storers, the really firm-skinned perfect fruit, which are placed in our outside store in stacked dimpled trays such that they do not touch each other - this prevents the spreading of rot. Thirdly there are the Cookers, i.e the tart varieties used for cooking, which we have been peeling, coring, quartering, blanching (i.e. dunking in boiling water to kill microbes) and then freezing for future use. Fourthly, the Preservers which are apples we make into some form of preserve. So far we have made apple and marrow spicy chili chutney, apple butter (a thick apple cinnamon spread popular in the States) and dried apple rings.  Finally, the most numerous category, the Juicers. This year, for the first time in living memory, we have decided to make our own apple juice.  We will be taking about 250kg of apples to a local cooperative’s apple press and pasteurising facilities on 11th and 12th November, and hopefully end up with about 200 bottles of delicious golden juice!

In the half-year that I’ve been away from Pilsdon, young River has grown from baby to small boy. He now walks, says a few words like “Mummy”, “Daddy” and “fire”, can identify parts of his body, and this morning has learned how to stroke the cat nicely instead of yanking its tail. I have recruited him as an apple harvester apprentice, so he follows me around in the orchard making random quality inspections of the apples in the wheelbarrow by taking a bite or two out of each.

Everyone else here has of course aged by the same amount but developed in less immediately perceptible ways. What has noticeably changed is the male/female ratio as the community currently has four women guests, more than at any time that I’ve been here. This is generally considered a good thing as the women don’t feel quite as outnumbered by the men and perhaps exert a beneficial influence on the community’s atmosphere. Certainly people are behaving more socially than last winter. Instead of retreating to their rooms after supper, small groups hang out chatting in the library or by the Aga, or impromptu musical gatherings occur by the piano. Last week we were treated to a few beautifully sung duets from the couple from the Bruderhof community who are volunteers here. And plans are afoot to start up an occasional series of evening talks, given by anyone who has a topic they want to share with the rest of us.

This to me is what community living is all about. Working together, eating together, sharing together, and making music together. Long may it continue here at Pilsdon.