This peach is from a tree in my garden here in the city so it is an example of an urban harvest. I threw the pit back onto the earth and gave it a bit of a nudge underground with my foot which is a fact essential to what I want to say here – the core of the matter, actually.
This is an apple tree growing right on busy Cook Street at the end of a row of town houses.
It is on my walking route and in the spring I look to see if there are many blossoms in anticipation of the harvest now. It was an abundant year for fruit.
Others passing by enjoy the bounty, I am sure. If I can reach an apple I will do so, cradle it in palm of hand and lift gently to see if if releases from the tree. If not, I will try another.
Last time I walked by there were none easily accessible; if I had my umbrella I could have poked at an apple overhead and then hoped to catch it before it hit the pavement but I did not have an umbrella (a rare occurrence even when it is raining, my having one, in any case).
So I picked up a windfall. Isn't that a lovely term: windfall. Released by the wind.
It was bruised on one side from its fall so I ate from the other side. I don't know the kind but it is a crisp, semi-sweet apple and it had the tang of night air it being early morning.
Here is what I did with the rest of the core when I had finished eating the intact side: set it down on a nearby patch of earth just along from the mother tree and shoe'd it into the ground.
Are you beginning to see a pattern emerging, to see what I am getting at.
But hang on a sec – this doesn't fit into the actual intent here – it is an urban harvest tree for sure, an elderberry, with fruit hanging onto public property so I had to include it.
Here is a closeup of a cluster of elderberries; they get picked and eaten and not a one dropped (at least on purpose) back onto soil so it only fulfills half of "reap and sow".
This is the edible chestnut tree across the street from me and if passersby and the neighbours on both sides of that fence and the squirrels leave one single fallen chestnut on the ground, I suppose it would qualify as an urban harvest tree that offers both reaping and sowing. But I have never seen one escape the clutches gathering of the gatherers. Moi? Guilty of being one of the aforementioned.
The oak tree that shelters the patio at Willows Gallery Fish and Chips over on Estevan (open year round; most people go there for the fish and chips: my favourite is the chicken burger or the prawn burger or the seafood chowder) seems to gently let go of its acorns: I've never seen one hit anyone yet. And this one I did pick up from the sidewalk, carry it to some earth, plant it.
I am not the only one who does this – plants seeds thusly. It becomes a habit, a mindset. It is more predictable, for sure, to be less haphazard, more conventional a gardener. But it isn't hurting. And given the state of the need to keep greening this world of ours, and given the fact that so many of us now live in cities – I suggest we adopt the mindset that every effort counts. And enjoy the snacking along the way.