The Absence of Apples
“Sometimes only our absence can deepen and cleanse our presence.”
Practice
Notice the natural world. Notice what's missing in your neighborhood and at local farmers’ markets.
Continue to gather. Host your friends and neighbors; acknowledge the gathering is without the usual produce or activities.
Lament what is absent. Grieve together. Say out loud what is lost.
Celebrate what grew. Look for the abundance that did show up this year. Give thanks for the goodness that is present.
Autumn affords organic rhythms to connection and community. The harvest season has brought people together across the centuries and civilizations. The abundance of produce that orchards and farms provide each autumn offers a natural cause to come together.
A single apple tree can provide a cause for neighbors to come together. “A mature apple tree produces more apples than any one family can ever eat!” shared Dan Lagerborg in our conversation about the annual rhythms his apple tree has created over the years. The ancient Macintosh apple tree on their property in Littleton is an icon from another era. It is the last remaining apple tree from when their property was an orchard. Every year, its abundance has facilitated a day of memorable apple crushing for the celebration of fresh-from-the-tree apple cider. But it is the absence of apples this year that is giving Dan a point of reflection with his family, friends, and neighbors.
This year an abnormally warm winter caused apple trees to bud early, and a single late spring freeze eliminated every bloom in the city. “There is not a single apple grown in Denver this year!” said Dan ardently. The statement may have a rare exception, but conversations at City Park Farmer’s Market this summer sadly confirm the tragic truth: there is an absence of apples. The natural rhythms of autumn have been interrupted. Within the unforeseen interruption, there is an unexpected invitation.
How does the practice of noticing what is missing from autumn’s annual rhythms help us love our neighbors and neighborhoods? Absence can provide a clearer perspective than presence. When something is absent, we only then may recognize the real value of its presence. It is in seasons of physical injury and unhealth that we more fully appreciate how well our bodies have cared for us and how our value of health has often gone unnoticed. The Catholic author Ronald Rolheiser writes, “Sometimes only our absence can deepen and cleanse our presence." It may be that the true value isn’t seen until the absence is felt. There are important lessons and invitations to be learned in the absence of apples.
Annual rhythms marked by generosity are profoundly important to cultivating connection to each other. Apple picking and apple pressing are practices that celebrate the abundance of a single apple tree among friends and neighbors. Each autumn offers an annual reminder of the generative gifts of our gardens, vines, and trees. An autumn with the absence of apples is an invitation to notice and name what is missing. Instead of raising a glass of apple cider in celebration this autumn, it may be raising a glass in consolation—not only for the neighborhood apple tree without apples, but in shared lament for every farm and orchard that has experienced the absence this year. It is a practice of being present and noticing what is missing.
Thank you to Dan Lagerborg for the conversation and contribution to this article.
