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  • Looking at an empty apple bin is spirit crushing to an apple picker, when possible always cover the bottom of the bin for the morning, otherwise you are overwhelmed by the vastness of it. We actually counted how many apples it took to fill a bin on average, I'm pleased to have forgotten. I will never forget the friends I made though, or the mornings, crisp and cool, with ladders and grass and tree's all wet with dew, and moving the icy ladder into just the right position, climbing to the very top to sit in the first misty rays of the sun. Choosing the biggest, reddest apple to eat, what luxury! It was a morning ritual, you needed to enter the zone, be mentally prepared for the day, I think I borrowed the ritual from Mango, who also wrote this:

    "They chase me in my nightmares
    and in my daydreams too
    Every time I blink those apples fill my view.
    Apples to the left of me, apples to the right
    when I'm up my ladder they stretch to the edge of sight.
    Apples, Apples, Apples
    Green, Yellow, Red
    Apples, Apples Apples
    I'd rather pick hops instead.
    At night I hear them cackle
    they're waiting under my bed.
    I'll pick apples in the morning
    until the sun gets hot...
    I thought I'd be traveling New Zealand
    or sailing...
    But I'm not,
    I'm picking those 'fing apples at Leith Orchard, close to Mot.

    Mango 2001
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