My small apple tree here in my Lewes garden has finally offered up these deliciously tempting fruits as August and Summer begins to wave us goodbye. The fruit, variety Croquella, is an early herald for Autumn and its rosiness tempers my regret for season’s end especially after this very disappointing English Summer.
A week ago, I was celebrating Summer at an alfresco dinner party in the countryside only a couple of miles from here. My indulgent friends insisted on me doing an impromptu poetry reading around the camp fire and this is one of the poems I read – I wrote it in 2009 and it was published in The Blotter magazine of November that year when my health was much frailer than it is today. It was originally written for a poetry exhibition on the subject of good and evil:
The Tale Of An Apple And A Sausage