A Windsor Apple too far...

       Who could of known, 18 years ago as Steven, the city boy, the military brat, planting the seeds of tomorrow would reap the harvest he had sown.  As he sauntered out to the sounds of the

 horses and cows to divide the ground swell of Gravenstein apples between the animals and the bit of the blade that would produce some homemade Apple juice from "Windsor" proper.

        His trusty juicer fondly bore the fruit of his loins and desire to produce close to a gallon of juice, the finish of the toil of eighteen years of care and finesse.

                     After being safely stored in the coolness of the Ice Box, he sauntered out to the back forty, just south of the Arbors, to pick the dangling blackberries from their native perch, the fourth gallon bag to find it's way into freezer storage, later to become Joyce's wonderful Blackberry Jam.

     To finish the Dog Days of August on a quieted and quaint Sunday, Joyce will lay some fresh Peaches from our tree and some of the blackberries into a wonderful dessert called a Peach-Blackberry Gallette.  So go the days of a Windsor Constant Gardener, and his trusty sidekick, Joyce, this being Steven, the bearer of a bond between the Garden and the  Table, a silent moment of glorious benign culinary vision, Child