December 26, 2025

The sun is back and bright, and the temperatures continue to be on the colder side. At 8AM this morning it was still -8F and windy. A good day to shuffle papers, do a few apple ID’s, crank up the wood stove and make some sauce.

Lately I’ve been experimenting with using bittersharp apples in our sauce. I made two batches last week using a blend that included the English bittersharp, Kingston Black. It was excellent. The last couple days it’s been pure Dandeneau, another bittersharp. I’d been thinking about using bittersharps in sauce for sometime now, but somehow they all got consumed in the press and never made it to the pot. That changed this year. We didn’t harvest the Kingston’s and the Dandeneau’s until after we’d done our big pressing. Then the temperatures went south (or actually north), and it’s been too cold to press. So all of a sudden we have these bittersharps begging to be used.

The sharps are high in acid. (“sharp!”) Acidity is a must for sauce. Yes, you can make sauce from “lo-acid” apples but it takes forever and it’s never that good. The bitterness gives the sauce another interesting flavor element. We’ve given up using sugar or spices in the sauce. Let the apples speak for themselves! I’m willing to bet that the sugar and spices increasingly gained favor as the apples became less and less flavorful in deference to whatever it is that modern apples are supposed to be. If you’re going to eschew sugar and spice, then you’re now obliged to find apples with something to sing about!  

Turns out Dandeneau is a good—maybe even a great—sauce apple. I may never press it again. It ripens super-late. We didn’t pick them until November, and it looks like they’re going to keep really well. They cook fast ,and the consistency is like whipped cream or maybe even guacamole - really thick and creamy. And the flavor is there.  Don’t ruin it with sugar and spice and everything nice!

December 25, 2025

After reading John’s poetic musings about the reasoning behind the selection of red and green as the quintessential Christmas colors, John’s sister, Kat Bunker Black, a longtime resident of New Mexico, sent us her rebuttal. We loved it. So in this season of sharing we post it for you. Now you get to decide- apples or chilies - or perhaps send us your own hypothesis. Merry Christmas, Kat and apple lovers everywhere.

From a culinary perspective I must protest

I’m sure the answer to your quest

Has more to do with what has heat

That Southwestern folks daily doth eat

As the owner of Super Chilly Farm 

You must know the food that keeps us warm

This time of year with snow on the ground

We gather together and sing another round

Of Silent Night, Holy Night

New Mexicans got it right

Their official state question is Red or Green?

And don’t forget when you want both

Just ask for Christmas, know what I mean?

December 24, 2025

The snow did come last night as predicted and the world of central Maine turned white once again. For most of the morning we felt like we were in a magical, swirling snow globe (and we were). 

It has occurred to me recently that I’ve never heard a convincing argument as to why Christmas colors are red and green. As you might imagine, I’ve since given this critical question exhaustive research and deep meditation. You’ll find my conclusions below. Merry Christmas! 

Why Christmas Colors are Green and Red

December 24, 2025 

Once again it’s Christmas eve, we don the red and green.

We all know about Christ and Santa Claus,

but, what do these two colors mean?

What’s so great about green and red?

Why not yellow or purple or pink instead?

Orange and black got taken long ago by Halloween.

But how about turquoise or navy blue or something in between?

Or something perhaps a bit obscure, like chartreuse or grenadine; 

Well, I think I know why red and green were chosen

And I doubt it’s what others have been supposin’

It’s not the holly and the ivy: I don’t believe that tale!

And no, it’s not about the solstice, 

though you’re getting warmer with Wassail.

And it’s not Saturnalia with its Roman king and queen.

Forget those other color theories, every one that ever been.

I’ve got an explanation, and it’s the one I like the best.

It makes the most sense, after all, far better than the rest.

Let me pose a question and then you can make the call:

Be-sides universal love and friendship, 

What's the most important thing of all?

Why of course it is the orchards and the apples in the fall.

They give us pies and sauce and cider, and ask for nothing back at all. 

They teach us rootedness and flexibility,

 generosity and humility.

And though it’s true that some are russet and a few are even black

I’ve looked at many apples and determined it’s a fact:

Check out the colors of the apples, nearly every one you’ve ever seen.

The apple’s got to be the reason why Christ-mas is red and green. 

December 23, 2025

When the ground is bare and the temperatures are in the teens and the weatherman declares there’s a 100% chance of snow, it’s time to suit up and head outside and clean up the mess from the last storm and put away the stuff you didn’t put away before the last time it snowed. And cover up the stuff that can’t be put away but can be covered up with a tarp or an old piece of sheet metal. So much to do! Got the repaired tractor tire back on and headed up to Finley Lane. Cut the trees off the orchard fence that came down last week. Cleaned up various long, black strips of landscape fabric that used to be keeping down weeds between the rows of nursery trees and had become airborne in the wind storm and wound up (literally) in tangled piles along the fence. Yes, and cleaned up a few more wood piles, including more kindling. You can always use more kindling.  Went to the local store and picked up a couple things we need before the snow. The clerk, who’s been there now thirty years or so— maybe since the store opened and that would be forty—asked me, “Do you like the cold?” 

December 22, 2025

It’s winter! The temperature at 6AM was 10F. It wiggled its way up to the mid-teens by mid-day, but then headed back down again. It was also breezy. The snow is gone, and the ground is now free to freeze. Today I cut cedar logs in a friend’s massive cedar bog. We have no cedar here so every few months I head up to Albion and cut cedar for our various outdoor building projects, fence posts, apple ladders, railings and anything else that requires light-weight, rot-resistant wood. The cedars love to twist and turn and curve and grow in all sorts of whimsical and curious shapes. They are so cool. I love cedar bogs! Mostly I cut the blow-downs. They might have tipped over or broken off years ago, but they’re still in perfectly usable shape. 

My goal today was to find a post for a new gate in the BRC orchard. A fourth gate will give us access to a large stand of maple and other potential firewood to the south of the orchard. Thinning back the hardwoods will also increase sunlight to the apple trees. When I got home, I was able to dig a hole and install the post. The snow had protected the ground for the past few weeks so it has not yet frozen. That’ll change in the next week or so. I can build the gate itself in the coming weeks and install it on one of those crisp January afternoons. 

December 21, 2025

Today in the orchard

The shortest day

The sun comes up but won’t stay long;

The skies are cold and partly gray;

The snow is gone:

I won’t delay;

Call it work or call it play:

I want to be outside.

The ground is bare, 

I walk all the way 

around the orchard fences.

There may 

be blow-downs from the recent storm:

Two stray broken fir trees (Abies balsamea) 

lay 

precariously,

half in half out. 

They can stay 

there for now;

That’s Okay.

I’ll get the saw tomorrow.

Oh, and by the way,

I also want to say,

I finished up our scionwood inventory;

Clipboard, pencil and chilly fingers;

Then I closed in the chickens, 

(Check the hay for eggs, just in case)

It’s nearly dark when I come back to the house

Where we set up another Fir, this one in the living room.

I cut it yesterday 

in the BRC, behind one of the two young Blake trees, 

by the compost piles, beyond the Cray

which, by the way, 

may actually be the real Nutting Bumpus:

(We should check the DNA.)

It was dark when I lit the fire and let the dogs in.

I don’t think they noticed the tree.

December 20, 2025

Today in the orchard

We woke up this morning to a very different world than we inhabited yesterday when the woods and the fields and the orchards were entirely white and the driveway was a ribbon of ice. In came the waves of rain and the intense gusts of wind. The temperatures, that recently had not been above zero at dawn, nibbled 50F. Big trees were down along Rte 3 including several all the way across. The road crews had not yet arrived and getting home turned into an adventure. (It might not have been the best day for driving.) This morning the white world had gone. One plus was a very walkable (and drivable) road. No cleats needed on the boots just yet. 

The apple trees probably survived OK. It wasn’t too warm for too long. By this morning, the temperatures had settled back down into the low 20’s. The trees are into consistency. In the summer, they’re happy with the warmth. But not now. In the winter, they want it cold. Tomorrow, on the solstice, I’ll walk all the orchards. The ground is now a bare mat of stiff, frozen grass and the walking is easy. I’ll be looking for broken branches or—even worse—uprooted trees. I’ll check all the fences for blowdowns. (That wind was powerful.) I’ll wish the orchard well on the shortest day of the year and say good-bye for one last time before the real cold sets in. Bring it on.

Good-by and Keep Cold (1923) by Robert Frost

This saying good-by on the edge of the dark

And the cold to an orchard so young in the bark

Reminds me of all that can happen to harm

An orchard away at the end of the farm

All winter, cut off by a hill from the house.

I don't want it girdled by rabbit and mouse,

I don't want it dreamily nibbled for browse

By deer, and I don't want it budded by grouse.

(If certain it wouldn't be idle to call

I'd summon grouse, rabbit, and deer to the wall

And warn them away with a stick for a gun.)

I don't want it stirred by the heat of the sun.

(We made it secure against being, I hope,

By setting it out on a northerly slope.)

No orchard's the worse for the wintriest storm;

But one thing about it, it mustn't get warm.

"How often already you've had to be told,

Keep cold, young orchard. Good-by and keep cold.

Dread fifty above more than fifty below."

I have to be gone for a season or so.

My business awhile is with different trees,

Less carefully nourished, less fruitful than these,

And such as is done to their wood with an ax—

Maples and birches and tamaracks.

I wish I could promise to lie in the night

And think of an orchard's arboreal plight

When slowly (and nobody comes with a light)

Its heart sinks lower under the sod.

But something has to be left to God.

December 18, 2025

Today in the orchard

The cold weather that’s been with us for the last few weeks has given way to somewhat warmer temperatures. Monday and Tuesday were zero F at dawn. Wednesday was 20F. Today, about the same. Skylar and I began the process of inventorying last season’s growth on all the fruit trees on the farm. With clipboard and pencil in hand, we made our way through most of our snowy Finley Lane orchard. Our primary mission was to look for available scionwood for distribution this winter. 

We train our eyes to focus on this past season’s new growth. That is the growth out at the end of most branches. On some branches there’s lots. On others, almost none. We ask ourselves a series of unspoken questions as we move from tree to tree. How does last summer’s new growth look? Are there long shoots that are begging to be snipped off? Are they “redundant” or angling off in the “wrong” way? Is the new growth plump or skimpy in diameter? Should we offer this one in our list of scionwood for sale? Each tree gets a check or a dash—or a squiggle if it’s iffy—and we move on to the next.

A December excursion through the orchards is also an opportunity to get out into the orchards and be there with the trees. I don’t do that nearly as much in the off-season. Today was one of those perfect opportunities to see how the trees look. Without the foliage, the trees reveal their form—and health—in a way that’s so easy to miss in the summertime with all those leaves in the way! And, it’s just plain fun to be out there with the trees in the snow. If I listen carefully, I can hear them say, “Hey, welcome back!”  

December 16, 2025

Today in the orchard

Time to stratify apple seeds for planting this coming spring. Stratification is a cold treatment process that helps to trigger germination in many seeds, including apples. First we extract the seed, saving the apple themselves for a pot of apple sauce. We fold the apples’ seeds up in small wads of damp paper towel. We keep each variety separate although it isn’t necessary if the parentage isn’t of interest. As many as 50 or more seeds can go in one “wad” of damp paper towel which is then put into a small mason jar with a lid. I label the top with the name of one parent (or both if I know them) and set the jars on a shelf in the root cellar where they’ll “stratify” for three months or so. The temperature fluctuates around 32F. It’s OK if they freeze but not as cold as a freezer. 

In January I’ll open the jars and check the damp paper towel for mold.  If there’s any sign of mold, I’ll re-wrap them in new damp paper towel and seal them. I’ll check them again in February. Sometime in March I’ll open them up again and look for any signs of sprouting. Once a few begin to sprout, I’ll plant all the seeds in flats like you would tomatoes or broccoli. 

Eventually each seedling will get it’s own small pot. In May they will be transplanted about a foot apart into a nursery row similar to how we plant young grafted trees. After a couple of years in the nursery, the healthiest, most vigorous seedlings will go out into the orchard. 

We know only one parent of some of the seed extracted today, that being the fruiting parent, or the Mom. Those are said to be “open pollinated” (no specific pollen source) and are from Blue Pearmain, Charlamoff, Redfield and Scout. We know both parents of the fruit from the Frostbite (MN 447) trees that we had hand with Black Oxford, Gray Pearmain and Westfield Seek No Further. If all goes well, in about 2030 (or so) we’ll get our first fruit! 

December 13, 2025

Today in the orchard

Trees and scionwood for sale!

2024 Digging Crew

Now the orchards and nursery have been put to bed for the winter, we’ve been assembling a list of available trees for digging this spring and available scionwood for cutting this winter. We’ll be offering about thirty different grafted apple tree cultivars, about a hundred seedlings, as well as about 200 different cultivars of scionwood. We plan to post the lists by early January along with prices and instructions. 

Please pass along this email to others who might be interested. 

Thanks, John (Bunk) and Cammy

Grafted trees:

The grafted trees are mostly unusual selections that have intrigued us in some way or another. We specialize in weird apples, often only suitable for cooking, cider or the true apple adventurer. All are either already on trial in one of our orchards or are destined to be there this coming spring. We’ll post descriptions of all of them in our varieties list on the website. We may have an assortment of other odds and ends available in the spring after the snow melts and we do a more thorough inventory of our various nursery beds. 

Seedling trees:

We’ll have about a hundred seedling trees for sale, all open-pollenated with only the female parent known. They are all “children” of about a dozen of our favorite rare cultivars.    

Scionwood:

We don’t offer scionwood of the more common cultivars. You can purchase that from Fedco Trees or several other sources. Most of the scionwood cultivars will have posted descriptions though some will not. It’s a on-going process.

Special orders:

If you are looking for something you don’t see on one of our lists, feel free to write to us and ask. We won’t be listing everything we have. And, we’re in touch with growers throughout the US and may be able to direct you to a good source.

Custom grafting:

We do custom grafting. If interested, write for details.

December 12, 2025

Today in the orchard

At 6 AM this morning it was a balmy +10F. It creeped its way up into the teens by late morning. The gusty, cold wind, however, was impressive, and it never felt all that warm while we were cleaning up the trail out beyond the orchard we call the BRC.    

We have plenty of visitors outside the kitchen window these days. The birds are “flocking” to the feeder. So many birds. They love the free food. We look out, and they’re everywhere in the sky, in the trees and across the snow. Sometimes they even make the ground itself look as though it’s alive. 

The Blue Jays (Cyanocitta cristata), in particular, love it here. They swoop in from the hemlocks, grab a mouthful of black oil sunflower seeds and zip back off into the trees. I bet we have three dozen Jays who show up regularly, sometimes all at once. Most days it’s also Chickadees, Titmice, Mourning Doves, Harry the Hairy Woodpecker and the Cardinal couple from away.

Today we also had a flock of Evening Grosbeaks (Hesperiphona vespertina) stop by. Cammy thinks they look like clowns. Maybe it’s that wide yellow forehead band. It would have been easy to miss them. I happened to gaze out the window at the perfect moment when the whole bunch of them scattered en masse into the woods. “Had it been another day, I might have looked the other way…” I didn’t get a good look, but I was pretty sure it was the Grosbeaks. I figured they’d return. A few minutes later they were back. Presumably they’re passing through en route from somewhere to somewhere. Stopping in for a pitstop. I don’t think they’re planning to spend the winter here.

When I was about seven, I discovered a dead Evening Grosbeak on the flat roof above our porch. I don’t think I told anyone. As I recall I took the Grosbeak out back and gave it a proper burial. I assume now that it must have flown into a window, but back then I didn’t know birds did that. I just knew it was dead. Some images you don’t forget. 

December 8, 2025

Today in the orchard

It feels like winter more and more everyday. The snow continues to accumulate an inch or so every day, and the temperature doesn’t seem to want to break 32F. The temptation to sit near the fire and stare at unidentified apples is as great as it’s been for a very long time. What a perfect way to occupy a cold December day.  

So I sit and look. More has transpired in the search to identify “Geneva Tremlett’s” (PI_175550). We’ve connected with our friends/colleagues in the UK, and they are now joining us in the attempt to determine what PI_175550 isn’t and what it might be. “By process of elimination,” as they say. 

Apple identification is a bit like the kids’ party-game Musical Chairs. The music starts, and we all walk in a circle around a row of chairs. Meanwhile some parent removes one chair from the row. The music stops, and everyone scrambles to find a chair to sit in, but there’s one less chair. Someone has no place to sit, and they are out. Finally it's down to one chair and two kids. Or in the case of apples, two identities left if you’re lucky. In apple identification that last chair is it. We’re now in the process of pulling aside chairs one by one. As long as we knock them off—even only one at a time—we should eventually find the true identity of PI_175550. 

To review we know that Geneva Tremletts (PI_175550) is not the true UK Tremlett’s Bitter though we’re virtually certain it is a known cider apple, not a seedling or a rootstock. Geneva Tremletts is a red, fall-ripening bittersharp. The true Tremlett’s is a bittersweet. We also know that it was exported from Long Ashton Research Station (LARS) to the US in 1949.

I sent off a detailed phenotypic description of PI_175550 to the folks in the UK. I hope it might ring a bell and that we’ll be rewarded with another clue or two as we yank more chairs off the birthday party floor. We’ve still got a lot of chairs to eliminate, but, looking over the horizon, the last chair might possibly be a relatively obscure fall bittersharp called Tom Tanner. It’s possible! Tom Tanner was apparently growing at LARS at the right time. It resembles Geneva Tremlett’s enough to be a plausible mix-up. Tom and Tremlett’s are in alphabetical order. Could it be that a stick of Tom was inadvertently snipped and sent as Tremlett’s 76 years ago?

December 9, 2025

Today in the orchard

At 6 AM this morning the thermometer on the back porch read —22F. Wow. Even the collies looked cold.

When we were kids (maybe you too) there was always someone’s house where everyone went to hang out. There was something about it. Fun. Welcoming. Snacks. Basketball hoop. Understanding Mom, etc. Well, we seem to have created the collie-version of that old neighborhood hang out.  If you stopped over these days, you’d wonder why we had so many kids (Collies). Well we don’t. They just love being here. Currently we have three, though only one is “ours.” But they treat our home as their default hangout. They come over and don’t leave except when they all spontaneously start barking and then race off into the woods to chase the latest marauder. Most of the time, they lay around. Occasionally they pretend-fight. They line up dutifully for treats if you get close to the car and they think there’s a chance you are leaving on an errand. They love to go on walks with us. You’d think all three were ours. 

Collies are the perfect farm dog. They’re happy to bark all night and do a flawless job at protecting orchards and gardens. They chase away the deer, raccoons, squirrels, even bears if you have them. We do though we never see them..because of our collies. (Porcupines are tricky. We have pulled out a lot of quills over the years.) Until we got our first Collie several decades ago, we’d sometimes have deer peeking in our windows at night. In many parts of Maine, it’s nearly impossible to grow an apple tree or a broccoli plant without a serious fence… or a Collie. (These are—I should mention—the Standard type, not the Border collies which are a bit too hyper for my taste.)

Collies have incredibly thick coats and will gladly sleep outside 24-7-365. They love to nestle up in a good snowstorm and make sure no one’s messing with our Black Oxfords. As mentioned, they often bark all night. That’s actually a good thing, although it can get to be a bit much now and then. When it is, we invite them in to sleep inside. We never reprimand them (after all they were just doing their job). Then we go back to sleep. 

Collies welcome all visitors. They love everyone unconditionally. They don’t bite the UPS guy. Or FedX. Oh my word, what is there not to love about collies?

We’ve had a succession of collies over the years. We've always preferred females although I’ve met a number of terrific male collies so gender may not matter all that much. You might say, they are—in actual fact—the best dogs that ever were. This year one of our Collies moved on the orchard in the sky. Radar had been protecting the farm for a very long time. We miss her everyday. What great dogs. 

December 6, 2025

Today in the orchard

A balmy zero this morning - fourteen degrees warmer than yesterday. It snowed all day although the new accumulation was less than an inch. The temperature rose to the mid-teens by early afternoon. I took the opportunity to do some outdoor chores before the ground is entirely frozen. That could be soon. 

I was able to spend some time identifying apples, today’s focus being “Faux Tremletts,” or, as some call it, “Geneva Tremlett’s.” It was sent to the US as Tremlett’s Bitter from Long Ashton Research Station in the UK in 1949 and became part of the Geneva, NY apple collection with the number PI_175550. It was presumed for many years to be correct, but its identity was thrown into question about the time that cider-makers realized that the US “Foxwhelp” was incorrectly labeled and became known as Fauxwhelp. The tip-off was that, as “Tremletts” began to be passed around, grafted and fermented, it became clear that PI_175550 is a bittersharp. The true Tremlett’s Bitter is a bittersweet. There was a problem.

Dick Dunn wrote in Cider Digest in June, 2015, “The pleasant irony is that the mis-ID'd variety is actually a rather nice cider apple. I haven't been nearly bold enough to make a varietal cider of it, but it's a real help in a blend that needs a nudge in character. So I'd like to be able to describe it to other cidermakers/orchardists without resorting to a short essay of its provenance...I just want a name.”

There was some attempt to identify PI_175550 but without success. For a while it was thought that it could be Skyrme’s Kernel, an English bittersharp. But Geneva has Skyrme’s, and it appears to be correct. (We also have Skyrmes from Geneva growing here.  It’s a beautiful, hardy and prolific bittersharp, one we recommend for trial in colder districts.) In 2019 the true Tremlett’s Bitter was imported from the UK and is now in the Geneva, NY collection as  PI_703244. 

So now both “Tremlett’s” are here in the states. While it’s great to have the real Tremlett’s, unfortunately trees and scionwood of both are being sold, sometimes with no clear indication of which is being offered. Some nurseries say that they are selling the faux. Others say they have the real one but clearly do not. Some descriptions are confusing or even bizarre. One site suggests that the apple can be bittersweet or bittersharp depending on this or that.

After looking through my various books of UK cider apples, I’ve begun to zero-in on a possible ID for Geneva Tremlett’s. There are clues to be found here and there. Greg Peck of Cornell wrote to me that they have compared the Geneva Tremlett’s DNA profile with DNA results from the US and Europe but have found no match. Greg has sent me that list, and I'll look it over tomorrow. As Sherlock always loved to say, “Eliminate the impossible!” Once I can see what’s been discounted, I’ll be ready to flip the latch and open the next door of possibilities.

December 5, 2025

Today in the orchard

This morning was the coldest December 5th in a very long time. It was —14F on the big porch at 6 AM.  I think we could have gone skating today somewhere nearby. But we didn’t try. Mr. and Ms. Cardinal, who have taken up permanent residence status on the farm for the past few winters, were seen deliberating on their decision as we ate breakfast with the sun shining in our eyes and the woodstove radiating whatever it could muster from behind. “Why did we do this?” she was heard chirping to the Dad. I didn’t actually hear his reply. It sounded like he mumbled something in the order of, “hey, these black oil sunflower seeds are pretty good.” 

Many apples to sort.

Our visiting friends headed off for lands south of here. Cammy and I descended into the basement where we sorted apples for the next several hours until well after dark. (Dark is about 3:30.) We’ll sell the best of them over the course of the next few weeks. Some will go into one last cider pressing if the weather cooperates. Many will be examined, photographed, tasted, cooked with and some will be “phenotypically” described for future generations. And then there are the bushels of bags of assorted ID’s. So much to do.

By evening the root cellar was looking more orderly than it had in weeks. It was time to re-ascend into the warmth. Outside, that big fat moon was shining like a spoon. It will be warmer tonight. Zero, they say.

December 3, 2025

Today in the orchard

Black Oxford on the crochet and off the tree.

I never know what will turn up when I open a package this time of year. I assume it’s going to be a bunch of apples and then, it’s not. I opened one box yesterday and found two jars of honey sent from a former member of our apple CSA. A thank you gift for all the apples over the years. Thank you! 

Another I opened yesterday was a crocheted potholder with a Black Oxford apple in the center. Wow!  This was from Paula Gray who I’d met in Massachusetts earlier this fall and whose relative was Nathaniel Haskell, the one credited with having found the first Black Oxford tree 240 years ago in Paris, ME. Meeting Paula was a highlight of my trip to the New England Botanic Garden at Tower Hill in Boylston. She came up to me and introduced herself. We agreed on a trade: she’d send me family information on Nathaniel Haskell, and I’d send her a box of Black Oxfords. She’d never tried one.

According to Paula, Nathaniel was Capt. Nathaniel Haskell, born in Hampton Falls, NH in 1742. He married Deborah Bailey of Falmouth, ME. At age thirty-three Nathaniel joined the “31st regiment of Foot,” in Cumberland County, ME. He died in New Gloucester, not far from Falmouth, in 1794. 

Nathaniel’s daughter, Dorothy, born 1768 in New Gloucester, married Edmund Knight, and they lived in Poland, Otisfield and Paris, Maine. Dorothy died in 1848. According to Paula, “I don’t know if Nathaniel ever lived for a time in Paris, ME, but his daughter Dorothy (my grandmother) and his daughter Jemma lived there for decades.”

Sometime around 1790 the seedling that became known as Black Oxford was supposedly found by Nathaniel on the Valentine farm in Paris. Using 1790 as the date, that would have made Dorothy twenty-two years old and, by that time she could have married Edmund Knight and been living in Paris. Captain Nathaniel Haskell would have been forty-eight. Was he visiting his daughter? Was he living for a time with her and her young family?

Paula’s note inspired me to do more research. Evidently Nathaniel and Deborah had 12 children, one of whom was also named Nathaniel who was born in 1764 and would have been twenty-six in 1790 when the seedling was discovered. The son, Nathaniel married Sarah Stevens, and they had a son, also named Nathaniel, who was born in Paris in 1789. Perhaps Paula’s suspicion is correct - Captain Nathaniel Haskell never lived in Paris. It seems more likely that the Nathaniel Haskell of Black-Oxford-fame was his son Nathaniel who was living in Paris in 1789.

I went to the basement and selected a dozen Black Oxford apples and packed them up to send to Paula. I’ll put them in the mail tomorrow.

December 2, 2025

Today in the orchard

As predicted, the snow came, and the temperature did not rise. At least not enough to turn the precipitation into rain. There was some thought that it would hold off until mid-morning, but that didn’t happen. It was snowing by 8:00 AM.

I spent much of the day identifying apples, including a Stark tree from Falmouth, ME and a Baldwin tree from Martha’s Vineyard, MA. Stark (not to be confused with Starkey or Stark Bros.) does vaguely resemble Baldwin. In fact, some growers called them “Baldwin” in the same way that many green apples were called “Greening” as though all the various green apples were the same cultivar (which they are not!) With Stark, this troubling habit of calling them Baldwin caused confusion a hundred years ago. It also caused confusion as my brain was sorting out varieties many years ago. When you are told that multiple distinct cultivars are all the same, it doesn’t help your brain any as you try to figure out what’s what. Baldwin and Stark are not the same. 

Stark originated in Ohio in the mid-nineteenth century and became quite popular in Maine a short time later. It was grown commercially—like Baldwin—but it’s hardier, perhaps a bit easier to grow, and maybe the trees were more accessible (cheaper). Anyway, it was grown fairly commonly in Maine before the rise of McIntosh.

How to tell them apart: in shape Stark is more round-conic, and Baldwin is chubbier. Stark’s skin is smoother. Stark’s “red” is a dull brown mixed with a bit of green while Baldwin is brick red. Stark’s basin is not nearly as furrowed as Baldwin. Baldwin’s furrows can be quite pronounced (though not like Red Delicious.)

The Baldwin apples were sent from Martha’s Vineyard. The owner included a photo noting the woodpecker holes in her mystery tree. How perfect! One of the early names of New England’s most important apple ever was “Woodpecker”.  Woody himself was writing his name right there on the trunk of the tree. If we could only read “Woodpecker.”

Meanwhile the snow continued to blanket the Earth, and before I knew it ,it was night and time to abandon the ID table and go put the chickens away. The snow was up over my low-boots. Time to get out the high-boots.

December 1, 2025

Today in the orchard

It was windy, cold and partly cloudy, sprinkled with the occasional moment of warm sunshine. All the farm ponds are now iced-over though no one is looking for their skates just yet. I haven’t checked out the big ponds so I don’t know about them. The first decent storm of the season is predicted for tomorrow, to be followed by abnormally cold air. 

Cammy wrapped the last of the trees around the farm with screen. I went up to the neighbor’s and put on sixty treeguards there. We do an on-going work-trade with them. We maintain their orchard, and in return I’ve gotten to plant and grow out a bunch of back-ups of our favorite rare, historic-Maine cultivars. We also get a load of firewood to supplement what we cut ourselves. It’s a beautiful spot that was long ago a small commercial orchard of a hundred trees or so. About twenty of the original trees—mostly Ben Davis and Stark—remain.

As it was getting dark, we closed down the cooler for the season and moved all the remaining apples down to the basement. In the next few days we’ll go through the boxes, sort them out, pitch the rotten ones, set aside enough to do another cider pressing and store the rest in the root cellar. Then I’ll seriously plunge into the ID’s. That should take the entire winter.  

November 28, 2025

Today in the orchard

Today I went for a long, brisk, windy walk along the choppy waters of East River between Manhattan and Brooklyn with Benford Lepley, an apple-forager, grower and cidermaker from Long Island. We’d met a few times over the years, and it seemed as though it was about time to actually spend a couple hours together. Benford—or Ben—makes “Floral Terranes Cider” with Erik Longabardi, primarily from foraged wild apples in the New York city area. He’s grafted a collection of his favorite discoveries and planted an orchard out in eastern Long Island. I was pleased to hear that he’s already grafted “Screen Shot,” one of our own nastiest favorites. We’ll trade scionwood this winter and trial some of his up north at Finley Lane. 

He brought us a bottle of his “Trees are Filters” cider. The name got me instantly inspired. The word “filter” definitely got a bad rep (and a bad rap) during the cigarette days. The “filter” was supposed to eliminate the unhealthy stuff from the tobacco that nearly everyone smoked. If you were health conscious (or a wimp), you’d smoke filtered cigarettes. How well did that work? But on the farm, filter is the good word. Even essential. We filter the oil that lubricates the tractor that powers the sprayer that filters the sprays that we spray on the apple trees that filter our air and filter our water and filter the nutrients that rise through the xylem’s filter to feed the flowers that produce the apples that we grind and press and filter through a special cloth into a screened funnel (another filter) and into the barrel. No filters, no cider.  

November 26, 2025

Today in the orchard

Well, the Redfield, Blue Pearmain and Grandfather pie was a success. At least I was quite happy with it. The texture was nearly perfect, and  the flavor was good too. It's worth mentioning that the granddaughters assisted me with the prep work. As they were rolling out the crust, hey tasted the three apples raw and were entirely unimpressed. It's amazing what an hour in the oven can do for the flavor of the right apples.

Thanksgiving, 2025

The crust did settle a bit. Not weirdly so but it did have me concerned. I probably could have used one or two more apples. (I used 10 apples: four Redfield, and 3 each of the other two.)  The flavor of the crust was nondescript. That’s what I like. No distractions. I used 1/3 c sugar and barely 1/8 tsp of cinnamon, nutmeg and cloves. Just enough to give it a hint. I never peel the apples. 

Would I recommend that combo again? I went back for seconds.

Oh yes, the rest of the meal was also a big success as was the company. On top of that, everyone liked our cider as well. Apples win again!