THE OLD-FASHIONED APPLE ORCHARD 



By W, J. GREEN, Horticulturist Ohio Experiment Station 



IN TRYING to forecast the future of the apple orchard, 

 my mind reverts irresistibly to the past. One 

 orchard, in particular, crowds itself on my memory, 

 and this is the type of many others well known in the 

 past, nor is the class yet extinct. 



It is the old orchard back of the barn where the lambs 

 frisked in the early spring, in the season between "hay 

 and grass," where we children chased the calves and little 

 pigs, and where the horned patriarch of the flock some- 

 times chased us. This old orchard was primarily a calf 

 pasture ; cattle and horses had no place in it ; sheep and 

 hogs were allowed on special occasions, but the hogs were 

 civilized hogs, not by nature, but because they had rings 

 in their noses. The grassy turf was almost like a lawn. 

 The trees were full of vigor, some reaching skyward 

 beyond the length of any ladder, but the fruit they bore 

 did not need careful handling to get it to the cider mill. 

 A few had been despoiled and subdued by the artful 

 grafter. 



There were Greenings and Gates, Rambos, Golden 

 Sweets and Harvest apples enough for the family, and 

 sometimes a surplus for market, while cider apples were 

 never lacking. 



The trees gave shade to the calves and did not destroy 

 the pasture. The calves grew into fat steers and sleek 

 cows. These brought cash, and the pigs and lambs added 

 their quota also. Very naturally, there was an abundance 

 of good feeling toward the old orchard. 



The children loved it, for there was always life, ani- 

 mation and companionship there. The elders prized it 

 because of the steady income which it yielded, both 

 directly and indirectly ; nor did they begrudge it a year's 



(i8i) 



