Rosy Under the Sun

For most of the year, I adore the old crabapple tree in the garden, its whiskery branches in winter, the new leaves and blossoms in springtime, its tiny, hard green fruit in July. Not so much in August though.

Ripe crabapples are lovely pickled, juiced or jellied, but picking the little dears out of the veggie patch and raking them out of the grass before mowing is something else entirely. The fallen fruit  turns the garden into an obstacle course of sorts, and it hurts to walk on them. The intoxicated bees and wasps do not agree.