March 1, 2026

The temperatures slipped today, and it never made it above freezing. By late afternoon the serious cold was coming back in. 

The highlight for today was the appearance of the Barred Owl (Strix varia) that perched on a cedar branch next to our bird feeder a few feet from the house. It was a few minutes past 5:00 PM. 

Strix varia (with apple tree in the background), March 1, 2026

I’ve trained myself to glance at the bird feeders any time I’m near a window where I can see them. (Sort of like constantly looking at a cell phone to see if so-and-so wrote you that incredibly important text.) But, in this case, I’m checking to see who’s at the feeder. I keep the feeder full, and I glance many times a day.

The farm is located in an opening in the woods. The birds love it. As mentioned a few days ago, the Pileated Woodpeckers often serenade us as we prune trees or pick apples.  While the Pileated doesn’t come to the feeder, a lot of other birds do, including now, the Barred Owl.

Strix varia lives on the periphery. We hear them in the woods often, typically at night. (“Who cooks for you?”) We rarely see them out in the open. When I glanced at the feeder this afternoon, my eyes did a double-take. I stopped what I was doing, tiptoed downstairs, gently pulled up a comfy chair and sat for half an hour. The owl was about ten feet from me. She (or he: it’s not easy to tell them apart) was clearly aware of my presence. She sat on the branch. The wind blew her feathers. She did not move except to swivel her head occasionally one way or the other. There was some serious communication happening between us. It was pretty amazing. Here’s a rough translation of what she had to say:

“Bunk, I don’t need to ask who cooks for you. We all know! But I do have a few things to say. You have created an amazing place here for us owls to live. Thanks for doing this. We love the woods, the stream, the ponds, the clearings, the paths, the gardens and the apple trees. (And the feeder of course though I’m not into sunflower seeds.) We’re doing our part to keep this place vibrant and alive and sorta rodent-free. Please continue to do your part. Keep the farm filled with love. Don’t leave any time soon.”  

February 28, 2026

Todd, Skylar and Claus collecting scionwood from the possible "Martha Stripe" in Orland

By mid-afternoon the temperatures were pushing 40F and snow was melting. Spring is in the air. Only three more weeks. I spent today on the road collecting scionwood from old trees primarily in coastal Hancock County. I was joined by Todd, Skylar and, a retired physician named Claus Hamann who lives in Orland and has seriously bit the apple exploration bug.

We made a gigantic loop around Ellsworth, with an assortment of stops in Brooksville, Orland, Bucksport and Lamoine. In each location we went to specific old trees that we’ve been visiting and studying in recent years, some for a decade or longer. Sometimes we had long chats with the owners, while in other cases, no one was home but we had permission to take scionwood.

Although we suspect we know the identity of some of trees, most remain unidentified, known only by their provisional names and, in some cases, a DNA profile number. That, however, is changing this year. Skylar and Todd have developed a new system of labeling every tree we work with, beginning with the scionwood. Now each selection gets its own handy code that will stick with it for the next hundred years or so. In the past I’ve always preferred the “scribble-a-few-words-on-the-tape” method, but this new code will—we hope—reduce the number of mix-ups that have inevitably happened over the years. We now have hundreds of trees saved in the Maine Heritage Orchard, various nurseries and our auxiliary collections in Palermo, Ellsworth and elsewhere. Minimizing errors is a laudable goal!

As I headed back to the farm, I made stops in Belfast to collect scions from an old tree that might be a second Drap d'or de Bretagne and at one of my all-time favorite seedlings - the rather nasty “Bitter Pew.” It was getting dark as I pulled into the driveway and parked next to the shop. It was still a few degrees above freezing.  

February 25-26, 2026

Yesterday it snowed most of the day for a total of 3”. Today was clear and tickled 32F. I spent some time cutting scionwood, but mostly I delved into the identity of one of our longest-standing, mystery apples -AMHO_151. It seemed as though the time was right to finally figure this one out.

The original tree of AMHO_151, Oct. 2015

Over the course of multiple years of DNA testing in central Maine, 13 old trees (c 120-140 years) have tested as genetically identical. The first of them that is referred to as AMHO_151, is a beautiful old tree growing behind a barn on the West Road in the central Maine town of Belgrade that I first visited in September 2011. Even before genetic testing, I believed that I kept finding the same cultivar over and over again. At first the trees were all from the Belgrade Lakes region, but DNA testing confirmed that the geographical parameter of this cultivar included a large swath of the central part of the state.  As far as I know, it has not been found outside of Maine.

I’ve had a number of suspicions about this apple since I first saw it in 2011. Originally I thought the apple might be one called Zachary that was introduced by Joseph Taylor. Taylor (1804-1882) was a Belgrade orchardist who was active in the Maine Pomological Society. I also considered that it might be another Taylor introduction called Childs, Childs being a common last-name in the Belgrade region. And I couldn’t rule out the possibility that the apple might be the Delaware County, PA apple, Pennock, aka Pennoch, Red Winter Pennock etc. as suggested by a number of others.

My latest thinking is that the apple may be Arctic, a historic cultivar that most likely originated in either New York or Vermont about the middle of the 19th century. Arctic is distinct from “Autumn Arctic” and is not currently in any DNA tested database, as far as I know. 

Since Joseph Taylor died in 1882 and his introductions were never broadly popular, any Taylor introductions, still surviving, are likely to be ancient trees. This makes it less likely that AMHO_151 would be one of his. There are two Belgrade trees that could be his introductions - “Dots” (AMHO_011 & AMHO_052) and Janetha’s Yellow (aka Stone Wall/E Sabins, MHO 2014 H3) (AMHO_300 & AMHO_487). These ancient trees are still growing at what was Joseph Taylor’s parents’ farm—later known as the Sabins Farm—about 2 miles from Joseph Taylor’s own home. The Sabins Farm is currently owned by Janetha Benson. AMHO_052 was submitted from the state of New Hampshire by Jared Kane. (AMHO_300 and AMHO_487 are the same tree.) Dots and Janetha Yellow each DNA profiled as unique. Janetha Yellow has Reinette Franche as a likely grandparent and Drap d’Or de Bretagne as a close relative.

How about Pennock? There is a possibility that AMHO_151 is Pennock. Phenotypically, Pennock does closely resemble AMHO_151. References to Pennock are scarce, however, and one would hope that an apple that appears as frequently as this one would have found more representation in the literature. Bradford (1911) writes of Pennock, “…grown in the state probably since 1835. It was fairly well known around Bangor in 1850 and has been grown to a limited extent since that time.” Although these AMHO_151 trees are old, they are not ancient. It would be safe to say that any Pennock trees would likely have to be older than the trees we’ve found.

Most recently it was revealed that six trees (Holli Trees #1-6) from one farm in the town of Embden, about 40 miles due north of Belgrade all tested as identical to AMHO_151. I contacted Holli Cederholm immediately. Holli works for MOFGA and used to work for Fedco. I was hoping for a good clue or lead. She wrote to me: “ A few of our neighbors have been around for decades and know the apple as a winter keeper. One neighbor says he has one of the same variety, he suspects, at his camp down the road. Another, who is 84, says the previous farm owner called the apples "Arctic Baldwin." This was exactly what I had hoped for. There are multiple references to Arctic being grown in central Maine at the proper time and being compared to Baldwin. It was also known as “Hardy Baldwin.” AMHO 151 is a “Baldwin type.” It is a dark red, long keeper—like Baldwin. 

Why had I not considered Arctic before? I had been introduced to Arctic twice in the past. The first tree was at Earland Goodhue’s farm in Sidney, near Belgrade, in about 1997.  Earland’s Arctic (one large branch) was ID’ed by the famous, NH professor and breeder, Elwin Meader who was an acquaintance of Earland’s. Earland had collected the scionwood from an old tree in Sidney, not knowing what it was. He was skeptical and somewhat dismissive of the ID which made me skeptical as well. Although I grafted a number of Earland’s cultivars, I never grafted his Arctic. In light of the fact that we’ve found multiple trees of the possible Arctic in the Belgrade area, maybe his was, in fact, correct. We will probably never know. Earland died over ten years ago, and his orchard has been mostly abandoned. I might still be able to find the Arctic branch though it’s doubtful. I do not have photos of that apple.

In the late summer of 2013 I was contacted by Nancy Homes of Jefferson who told me about an Arctic tree she had been introduced to in Jefferson. I visited that tree in September 2013. I returned to the orchard in March 2014 and collected scionwood from which we grafted five trees that spring. Presumably one of those was the tree planted at MHO in the spring of 2016. That was tested once (AMHO_085) and came back as Black Twig. That test appears to have been contaminated or mixed up. It should be tested again. I never phenotyped the Jefferson Arctic though I do have multiple photos of the apple. It is similar to AMHO_151.

Pennock and Arctic phenotypes on paper are nearly identical. I’ve assembled an excel spreadsheet of the characteristics using Bussey’s descriptions of Pennock and Arctic and comparing them to the descriptions I’ve done of AMHO_151 et al. That comparison shows very little difference in the three.

It may be possible to get some clues by looking at the parentage of these apples. Knowing parentage can reveal what an apple can—or can not—be. Bussey writes that Arctic originated in about 1862. Pennock was first recorded in 1810. If at least one of the parents of AMHO_151, originated after 1810 but before about 1840 that would eliminate Pennock from contention. The genetic testing revealed that AMHO_151 is a triploid and that one parent is (or may be?) Newtown Spitzenburg. Newtown Spitzenburg was first recorded in 1817 but almost certainly predates 1817 by a number of years, possibly a half century or more. This would mean that Newtown Spitzenburg could be a parent of either Pennock or Arctic.  Pennock is likely from PA, and Arctic is likely from New York or Vermont. The probable dates and locations of origin for both fit plausibly with Newtown Spitzenburg as a possible parent.

Can I gain some clues from tree locations? There are multiple references to Arctic being planted in the last ten years of the 19th c. in Somerset and Piscataquis Counties, not far from the location of all but one of the 13 trees we’ve found. As far as I know, no such references have been found for Pennock. This is strong, but not conclusive evidence. 

What about the 84 year old neighbor? Having a neighbor indicate that the apple was known locally as “Arctic Baldwin” is huge. This is also strong evidence that we may have a positive ID.  

Case solved? Although I think we have found the Arctic apple, there are a few steps moving forward that could close the case. A complete test of AMHO_151 should be done with the hope of confirming the one parent and determining the second. We should retest the possible Arctic from Jefferson (AMHO_085). I should return to Earland Goodhue’s farm in Sidney in the fall to see if I can locate the branch that may have Arctic. Lots to do. The mystery continues.

February 23, 2026

The massive storm that walloped the East Coast mostly skipped central Maine. (Just heard from cousins that they got 32” in Rhode Island.) We did get the impressive winds and about ten hours of snow, though there wasn’t that much accumulation, less than a foot. The vehicles, solar panels and bird feeder hardly have a flake on them. Nothing like Brother Wind to keep things dusted off.

Pulling scionwood orders at SCF, February 23, 2026

Cammy and I spent the day indoors assembling the scionwood orders received to date. We lay out the bundles of scion sticks (twigs) down the dining room table and then pull each order. One of this, two of that. At one point I braved the storm to venture out into the fray to collect a few cultivars we were missing. That was wild. It’s interesting to see what unusual varieties people want to grow. The best seller so far this season? Old Foxwhelp, the original true Foxwhelp cider apple I imported a few years ago from western England. Most of the Foxwhelps out there are not true to type. BEWARE of impostors.

All the while the tiny juncos and chickadees were negotiating the gale-force winds as they flitted back and forth selecting sunflower seeds from the feeder. How do they do it?

There’s still time if you want scionwood. We’ll be pruning trees and cutting scions until about the first of Spring. And don’t forget to join us at MOFGA’s Scionwood Exchange. That delightful event will be on Sunday March 29th. “Last Sunday in March.” 

February 22, 2026

Although temperatures were down around zero at dawn, it was up above freezing by late morning. Cammy and I spent all day collecting scionwood to send out to enthusiasts around the country. We don’t sell a lot of scionwood, but we do get two or three dozen orders a year for our weirder experimental cultivars. Part of our mission is to disseminate apples that might never be out there otherwise. It’s gratifying work that connects us with the extreme-apple-geeks of America. We’re somewhat limited in our range of influence by plant import/export laws—no sending plant material overseas—but that’s probably a good thing. At least the government makes a vague attempt to limit the flow of undesirable bugs and disease. Maybe it’s time to outlaw shipping pallets. That would be popular!

Collecting scionwood at Finley Lane, February 22, 2026 

We spent the day going up and down the rows of trees, cutting selected twigs as we went along, labeling them with masking tape and sharpies and loading them into an ash pack-basket. It was warm enough by noon that we wished we had fewer layers on, but by mid-afternoon we were again glad we had them. We finally retired as it was beginning to get dark. By then we’d cut several hundred sticks. It’s still light until 5:30 now. Spring is just around the corner.    

February 20, 2026

This afternoon I met with The Working Group, the rag-tag assortment of apple historians who have taken on the responsibility (opportunity?) of saving North America’s pomological heritage. It’s us or no one. Shouldn’t it be up to the government, at least, shouldn’t they be helping to fund this amazing effort? Guess again. We meet twice a month on “zoom” and attempt to develop strategies for saving the last remaining trees of hundreds of America’s rarest apples, “pro bono.” Incredibly enough, we’re doing it. Somehow we’re scraping together a little here and a little there, and the historic varieties are getting saved. Hallelujah!

The news at today’s meeting included new DNA genetic profile results for over a hundred recent submissions. There were some really interesting results that included trees here in Maine. Leaves submitted from half a dozen trees located on an old farm all came back matching one of my favorite unidentified cultivars, an apple that I’ve found in multiple locations in the Belgrade Lakes area. I’ve been calling the apple “Childs” or “Zachary” (two local apple names), though it is likely not either. It may be a somewhat more common cultivar called Pennock. This will give me new inspiration to get out my notes and books to see if I have any new thoughts as to what this interesting apple could be. It’s dark red, prominently dotted, delicious and keeps in the root cellar all winter. It was definitely popular in central Maine 150 years ago.

February 19, 2026

My routine continues as the weather is warming up. Perhaps we’ve seen the last of temperatures much below zero F. I looked at apples for a few hours this morning, then headed out to the orchard. In another week or so, I’ll quit doing firewood and focus on pruning the apple trees. 

.“Pileated” monument, Wilmington MA

The highlight today was being serenaded by a Pileated Woodpecker much of the afternoon. (I love them almost as much as I love Macaws.) I will never forget the moment I saw my first Pileated on a bluff above Great Pond in Belgrade. I was with “Aunt Meb” who was actually not my aunt but the mother of my buddy, John Shaw. She was an avid birder, and she knew how much I wanted to see a Pileated Woodpecker. It was just the two of us out for a bird walk one summer afternoon, and there it was, high up in a pine tree. What a fantastic moment! I didn’t see the Pileated today. I was too busy with my own work. But I could hear her (or him) chipping out chunks of hemlock or pine not far away. We were both into our own woodworking projects. I love sharing the woods. 

The famous apple, Baldwin, was first known as “Woodpecker” because the woodpeckers love to dig into the tree. Maybe Baldwin should have been named, Pileated? 

February 18, 2026

I’ve been in a routine lately of doing apple ID’s in the morning and cutting firewood along the orchard edge in the afternoon. It’s a good routine. Doing all day inside is too much. All day outside is quite wonderful except that cutting firewood is hard on the back after three or four hours. So I split the day and come in as it’s getting dark. Also both tasks are immense. I’m making a dent, but still have a long way to go. This way I inch along in both departments. So many apples to look at! So much firewood to gather for next winter!

In the apple world I’m deep into Hancock County, the gateway to Downeast Maine. Today’s star apple came in a bag labeled, “Worthen Goose Cove apple, Goose Cove, Trenton, collected 11/14/25.” Although I’ve never seen the tree, apparently it’s ancient and laying down, as they often do when they get very old. The apples are medium-large in size, roundish-oblate, greasy skinned, muted yellow, and partly to largely covered with muted, red blush and distinctive, red stripes. (I could go on.) We’ve been looking for an obscure apple in the area called Martha Stripe. Have we found it?

February 17, 2026

MOFGA’s executive director, Sarah Alexander, and Todd Little Siebold gathered in my living room today to discuss the status of and plans for the Maine Heritage Orchard. Unfortunately the shifted priorities of the current US president have meant that MOFGA has taken a huge financial hit and, therefore, so has the Maine Heritage Orchard. Already we’ve lost one of our two orchard staff members to budget cuts, But, fret not, MOFGA’s not going to close the orchard any time soon.  The priceless, historic apples of Maine will not be lost. MOFGA does have the capacity to keep the trees alive for now. Todd and I have committed to continuing all the database and research work “Pro Bono” since we keep finding interesting, old trees every fall. If you have a few bucks burning a hole in your picking bucket, feel free to send them to MOFGA. They can use it now, more than ever.

Meanwhile, while I’m on the subject of Sarah, what’s happening with my search for the Sarah apple? In October when I was giving a talk in Farmington, I met two people who think they’ve found an ancient Sarah apple tree not far from where it originated in Wilton. They called me last week, and it looks as though I’ll be able to go visit them and collect scionwood sometime in the next few days. I’ll have it DNA profiled and grow it out here at the farm.  This is great news. 

February 16, 2026

+10F at dawn. The nighttime temperatures are creeping up. Today was another beautiful day on the farm. I resisted the temptation to spend the entire day outdoors and opted instead to sit and stare at apples until afternoon.

Today we celebrate the birthdays of two of our most beloved presidents: George Washington (February 22, 1732) and Abraham Lincoln (February 12, 1809). Within a half hour drive of the farm we have the towns of Lincolnville and Washington. Lincolnville was named in 1802, seven years before “Honest Abe” was born, but Washington got its name in 1825, 26 years after the death of the man who was purported to say, “I can not tell a lie.”

A battered President found at a cocktail party, 2011

Since it’s President’s day, I will continue to glance at the President apple. Bussey lists four potentially distinct cultivars with that name. Actually he lists five, one being the apple Todd Little Siebold found after eavesdropping at a Hancock County cocktail party in 2011. If that one is a true President, it is likely the Essex County, MA President or the Salem, NH President. Of course those two might be one and the same. There’s also a President originating in Michigan and another in Tennessee. It’s unlikely those ever made it to Maine.

Although the historical record does indicate that a “President” apple was grown in Hancock County, as I’ve noted so many times in these orchard reports, the written descriptions of old cultivars are often sketchy at best. To accurately identify many of these requires resorting to the circumstantial evidence found in old books and newspapers, letters, maps and journals and, of course, at cocktail parties. 

This past fall, Todd and I collected fruit from another potential candidate for President, one we provisionally call, Sunnyside Yellow Netted. It is big and bright and shiny and looks oh so presidential. The leaves are in the lab now as I write, and we await any obscure clues that may emerge from the DNA results.

The only President I ever saw in person was Jimmy Carter on his inauguration day. That would have been January 20, 1977. It was a beautiful, clear, cold day in DC. I was standing on the cement base of a streetlight pole so that I could see over the crowd that lined Pennsylvania Avenue. I got to watch the President climb out of the car and walk down the street to the cheers of everyone. Amazing.

February 14, 2026

—6F at dawn. Today we celebrate love in the orchard. Love and Apples. The perfect combination!

Cammy has a cloth bag hanging on a chair next to her desk, printed with the quote “Comfort me with apples, for I am sick of love.” It’s from The Bible’s Song of Solomon. There are a number of translations of the original Hebrew, as you might imagine. Others are less dismissive of Love. The apple becomes regenerative rather than a replacement for unhappiness. For example, “refresh me with apples, for I am faint with love.” Or, “refresh me with apples, for I am sick with love.” Or, even more blunt, “refresh me with apples, for I am lovesick.”

Earlier in the Song of Solomon, are the lines, 

“Like an apple tree among the trees of the woods,
So is my beloved among the sons.
I sat down in his shade with great delight,
And his fruit was sweet to my taste.”

These lines remind me of my favorite apple song.“The Burial Waltz" by the Fugs, recorded in 1968. 

“Do not surround me with wreathes of flowers
Nor place upon my body the signs of a fetish
Nor crescent, cross, phallus or sun
But bury me in an apple orchard
That I may touch your lips again.
Look at me when you glance
At the spring apple flower
Speak of me into a breeze
Blowing over your fingers
Taste of me when your lips taste the froth
Foaming out of the apple meat.”

Our relationship with the apple trees could be described as bizarre. They are definitely strange creatures, so different from us. Or, maybe we’re the strange creatures, not them. But when we create relationships based on acceptance, trust and, yes, love, I think we’re headed in the right direction, no matter how bizarre. Love and apples. Happy Valentine’s Day.

February 12, 2026

+18F at dawn. Some light snow last night though not enough to measure. In the morning I jumped into one of our highest priority apples, Martha Stripe. What a mess!

In January 2019 Cammy and I went to Tower Hill Botanic Garden in Boylston, MA to cut scionwood from all 119 cultivars in their historic apple collection. The trees were suffering badly from decline and fireblight and were going to be cut down. Fedco offered to re-graft the entire collection for them. There were two trees of each cultivar, and with one exception, at least one of each was still alive. The exception was Lyscom, both trees of which were dead. No scionwood. Where would we get Lyscom?

Then I remembered that thirty years earlier I had received a letter about another apple, Martha Stripe, which was known as a synonym of Lyscom. The tree was in Orland, Maine. If I could only find it. I eventually located the letter in my files from Millard A. Clement dated October 21, 1998. He wrote, “I read your article in the paper today 10/21/98 about apples. I have a tree that I was told by my father is a ‘Martha Stripe.’ When I moved here in 1954 there was three of these trees. Only one is left. The apples are sometimes 3” across. … We make apple sauce and add nothing to it just cook the apples and eat.” 

I never got around to visiting Mr. Clement, but in the late winter of 2019 I did go visit his former home to see if I could collect scionwood from the last remaining tree. The owner at the time did not recognize the name Martha Stripe, but when I described the apple, she thought she knew which tree I wanted. I collected the wood, propagated trees, and two years later, sent them back to Tower Hill. Another old cultivar saved… or so I thought. When the Tower Hill collection was DNA profiled, my “Martha Stripe” profiled as Twenty Ounce.

Meanwhile we also determined that, despite the description in Bradford (Apple Varieties in Maine), Martha Stripe probably was not a synonym of Lyscom. Mathew Stripe was the synonym, not Martha. How do you keep this stuff straight? 

For the moment we think we have found the true Lyscom in Southborough, MA where it originated. And we continue to hear the name Martha Stripe as a cultivar grown in the Orland—Castine area, on the very road where Mr, Clement had lived. It has to be there somewhere. So last October I returned to the Clement farm, (now owned by someone named Doucette) and collected fruit from all the trees in hopes that one of them would be the true Martha Stripe.

Today I did a detailed phenotype of “Doucette #2”, one of the top candidates. As far as I can tell, it is not Martha Stripe. I suspect that it is the excellent, very-striped apple, St. Lawrence, though perhaps the DNA profile will prove me wrong.

February 11, 2026

It was a balmy +20F this morning at the farm. We had a few inches of snow last night, and it kept on snowing all day. I felt like I was in a snow globe, looking out at the Evening Grosbeaks and Jays crowding  out the Titmice, Juncos and Chickadees at the feeder. 

All morning I continued looking at apples obtained last fall. Today it was the apple Todd and I collected from the “Brown Place” on Park Street in Cherryfield. We were taken to the spindly, shaded tree by Larry Brown who topworked it about thirty years ago. 

Larry’s sister and her friend sent me fruit in 2006 wondering if they had found the Cherryfield—aka Collins—apple, a cultivar that originated in Cherryfield in the late 19th century. (see AOD chapter 20). Unfortunately, I think that they did send me the correct Cherryfield and that I may have mixed it up and lost the scionwood. The apple I grew out as Cherryfield DNA profiled as the mid-western cultivar, Salome (pronounced Sa—loam). Salome is an excellent apple but not Cherryfield (unless, of course, they are synonyms.) It could be that they never did have Cherryfield except that the original photos I took in 2006 look disturbingly different than the apple I eventually grew out and profiled. Did I mix up the scionwood somewhere along the way?  Argh!

Could they be Cherryfield?

I’ve been meaning to track down Larry Brown for the past few years to see if he could take me to the tree from which the original fruit came. He did that on October 13, 2025. The original tree had died but Larry took Todd and me to a tree on Park Street that he thought he’d grafted from that tree. It was that fruit that I phenotyped today.

To add to the confusion, years ago I sent Larry’s sister a tree that I grafted for her. It’s possible that Larry grafted his tree using my scionwood, not the original wood. The fruit I pulled out of the bag today closely resembles the one ID’ed as Salome. The fruit is smaller than our Salome and coloring is somewhat different though this could be due to the shady roadside location of Larry’s tree. Otherwise the two are remarkably similar.  Todd and I did take leaves in October and sent them in for a DNA profile.  We’ll see what the results show. I think it may be another Salome. Of course, another possibility is that Cherryfield and Salome were synonyms all along! 

I finished up the phenotypic comparison and headed out to the orchard to cut firewood along the fence line. Fortunately I can tell a maple from an apple tree!      

February 10, 2026

De-mystifying the mysteries

It was zero at dawn and soared to 30+ by early afternoon. I felt like running through the orchard in barefeet.  (I resisted.) Todd came over, and we looked at lists of high-priority apples that we need to examine before spring pulls us outside and the winter indoor-season comes to its inevitable conclusion. We also “attended” a zoom planning meeting for Maine Apple Camp. Get it on your calendar now! It’s the last weekend of August. You need to be there. 

Today’s priority apples—with provisional names—include  Sunnyside Yellow Netted, Garden Sweet (prov), Remick Sweet and Doucette #1 (There are several Doucettes, all interesting.) Sunnyside Yellow Netted may be the local cultivar, “President.” Doucette #1 may be another local cultivar, “Prospect Greening.” Garden Sweet (prov) was apparently collected from the wrong tree. It’s the modern British Columbia cultivar, Spencer. Good tasting but dull. (McIntosh x Golden Delicious.) Remick Sweet is a seedling of the French bittersweet cider apple, Bedan. Bedan seedlings were shipped over from Normandy and used as rootstocks. The Remick tree is the second full sized, old Bedan seedling we’ve found. Presumably Seneca Remick’s original graft never took—or maybe he just wanted to see what they’d get if they grew it out. It’s a true spongy, low-acid, bittersweet that I will certainly graft up at Finley Lane. The yellow ground color is an interesting, dull, mucky-dirty-mustard-yellow. I love that color!

February 9, 2026

—12F at dawn but warming up to +30F by mid-day. Spring is only 5 weeks away! Spent time today continuing to attempt to ID the “Baby Blue Group” apple, the one we think could be Walbridge.

BBG and McAfee

During our Working Group meeting on February 6 there was some thought that the Baby Blue Group (BBG) might be another popular apple out west called McAfee. So today I dove into McAfee, one apple I know even less about than Walbridge. I compared the BBG phenotype with Dan Bussey’s description of McAfee in The Illustrated History of Apples in the United States and Canada.

I think it is unlikely that BBG is McAfee. McAfee is medium to large in size. All of the BBG apples I examined were a solid medium. The shape of the two apples is also different. Although the general description of McAfee’s shape is similar to BBG, the depiction of the apple in the historic USDA watercolors is quite different than that of BBG. McAfee’s calyx tube is distinctly long and funnel-shaped. Not so, BBG. McAfee’s core is described as “decidedly abaxile.”  (Presumably “decidedly” means something like “pronounced” or “obviously”.) BBG’s is “decidedly” axile. McAfee’s carpels are said to be tufted. (That’s when the seed cells are partly covered with small fluffy, cottony bits.) BBG’s are not.

So much minutiae. When it comes to attempting to pry a name out of an apple that no one’s been growing for a hundred years and there’s no one left who can identify it from sight and only a few who’ve even heard of it, what do you do?

When focusing on apples you don’t grow or know much about, you’re forced to trust the writers of the past. You read the old books, and you hope that whoever wrote the description was a keen observer and an articulate writer whose understanding and use of the terminology matches with yours. Did they mean what you think they meant? You hold the apple, you cut the apple, you stare at the apple, you translate the old words, and you see where it leads you…  

February 8, 2026

Although we have over a foot of snow on the ground, the drought continues here in central Maine. The deep snow is deceiving. It certainly looks like a lot. I’m glad we have it, but we could use more. The fact that it hasn’t been above freezing for nearly a month means that nothing is melting. Not only that, the snow is so dry that the wind is still causing drifts across the roads two weeks after the last big snowfall. 

Today I created grades for the 18 apple students I taught for the month of January at Colby College.  There was one inflexible requirement for the course: they must attend every class. If you aren’t out in the orchard, how can you hear the trees and what they have to tell you? In the classroom it became my job to speak for the trees. The students came. They did their part. It was up to me to be the tree and share the experience of being in the orchard. What a responsibility the trees have to pick their words with care. And what a responsibility we have—as humans—when we share with one another.    

Being there

February 7, 2026

Dancing apple trees by Abbott Meader, 2004

Still below zero early, but a light snow came in for much of the day, and it warmed up a bit. Skylar came by, and we went up to the Finley Lane orchard to check out the trees. We walked the rows and listened to what the apple trees had to tell us. As I expected, they were happy to fill us in. They love winter. They were all dancing, spreading their branches in the most wonderful ways, and soaking up that clear winter air. It’s true they’re beautiful in the summertime in all their greenery, and in the fall when they’re decorated with fruit. But in winter they love to dance naked in the snow. They shimmer and vibrate and glow. It’s magical, beautiful, incredible. 

In 2004 my college art teacher, Abbott Meader, created a black and white dancing-apple cover for the Fedco Trees catalog. I think he must have been up at Finley checking out our trees. He got it perfect.ly.

February 6, 2026

It continues to be abnormally cold in central Maine, —10F at dawn and not much above zero (if at all) all day. In the afternoon our national Apple Working Group met via zoom to see if we can sort out the identity of an apple we’ve found in Washington, New Mexico and Colorado.  We think it’s Walbridge, a high quality, winter, dessert cultivar that historians and explorers in the west have been searching for. 

Walbridge likely originated in Illinois in the early 19th century where it may have been named Edgar Redstreak. It was apparently taken to Wisconsin and was eventually renamed Walbridge. From there it was widely disseminated in the western states where it thrived. Over time, along with numerous other heirlooms, it disappeared, or maybe we should say, it went under cover. 

It's all over now, Baby Blue?

Over the past few years, leaves submitted for DNA profiling from multiple locations across the west turned out to be a match to each other, but not to any of the apples in the reference panel. This apple became known provisionally as “Baby Blue Group”.  We think it might be Walbridge. So the Working Group is developing a process to assess all the information we’ve gathered in hopes of making identifications. Today we dove in.

We looked at the historical evidence, the genetic evidence and the phenotypic evidence. Where was it grown? How old are the trees? What else is growing in the orchards with it? Does the DNA profile make sense? Do the characteristics of the fruit itself match the historical description? We ask ourselves all these questions and more. We focus on the actual evidence and let it take us wherever it will. Our meetings are scheduled for an hour and a half, but today’s was nearly twice as long. In the end we weren’t sure. Do I think we’ve found Walbridge? I think we have.    

February 5, 2026

Today was the last full day of Cider Con. In the morning I attended an excellent session on making champagne-style cider. Three ciders were served and discussed. All three were quite delicious.  

Yesterday I was on a second panel with Jamie Hanson of Seed Savers’ Exchange and Todd Little-Siebold of College of the Atlantic. Our topic was apple genetics in the 21st century. It’s impossible to overstate the value of genetic profiling in apple identification, cleaning up our collections and coordinating preservation efforts around the world. What an amazing tool to use in combination with historical literature and good old-fashioned observation. I particularly enjoyed having the opportunity to talk about several cider apple cultivars that have been majorly mixed up over the past 100 years and the role of genetics in sorting them out. Those include Foxwhelp, Tremlett’s Bitter, Michelin, Hughes/Hewe’s and Bedan.  

In the afternoon I headed back to Maine. It was great to catch up with many apple friends and make some new ones as well. Don’t get confused by the name CIDER CON. It may sound rather corporate, but it’s chockablock filled with apple and cider geeks, just like you and me. 

February 4, 2026

Lots of snow in Providence. Hard to negotiate the sidewalks, but most of the Cider Con activity is in one gigantic, high-ceilinged conference center. Not exactly like being in the orchard, but, hey, it’s February and it’s cold. 

Today I participated on two panels. Steve van Nocker, Matt Kaminsky and I teamed up for the first panel: “Cider Apples of the Future.” We led off with a brief history of how we got to this place of needing new cider cultivars. Then we dove into the annual western MA Pomological Seedling Exhibition, Steve’s red-fleshed cider apple breeding program at Michigan State University, the widespread effort to track down seedlings, and the importance of large scale trials of potential new cultivars. One exciting new development is Matt’s project to grow out a couple acres of eleven of the most promising seedlings from the Exhibitions. I will grow all eleven on Super Chilly Farm as well. Although the three of us had never done a talk together before, I thought we were able to pull it off quite well. The audience was enthusiastic and asked many questions. The future’s looking bright for cider apples!