and so it begins

Oh well, what better place to start than the beginning. First it was warm then it was cold. then some doctor with a southern accent slapped my ass.
Are we allowed to say ass here? Anyway lets skip ahead to age four and a half - give or take a year. I promise this won't be a recording of every memory I have since four years old... I'll make some stuff up too.

Blue green finger smears on waxy paper.
"what is it?"
it's popeye, mommy. see the muscles?

sparks flying from an AA gun
whirl of the wheels inside.
Daddy was a jet mechanic in the air force.

The apple orchard:
between the Mac and the Greenings
dark and bright. playing the blindfold game.
"hands behind your back.
guess what it is."
your thumb.
"That right!"
Nice to be correct, hurrah! applause, applause, thank you, thank you.

Then with another cousin.
Macs, my favorite - one left near the top. perfect red.
"I'll race you to the apple, first one there gets it."
ok.
we climb. he's taller, older, stronger but I know this tree. I swing up into the tree and follow my favorite route to the top.
pass him quickly and get the apple. real Macs even when totally ripe and red and sweet have a hint of tart.
this one was the sweetest ever, crisp, cool.
Did I share it? Did I even eat it? Did he take it away?
?

Sweetest apples usually on the ground.
Cider apples; but watch for the yellow jackets.
They would swarm the fallen apples, usually underneath - where they were bruised.
yellow and black flickering against the red skin and white flesh.
They fed.

Grampa:
mixing the spray, milky white - a wooden block churns the poison;
driven by a small gas motor with a tin can for the muffler.
It gets very hot.
always clean the white powder off the apples before you eat them.
The small shed, looks like an outhouse (was it once?) with 50 gallon drums.
Also he sprays with oil and water mixture; in the spring? Kills aphids.

Only one arm, the right, the other lost in a car accident.
Arm out the window
resting on the door of his Chevy.
Car swipe and it's gone.

"here hold the steering wheel
while I "
ok grampa.
he takes out his tobacco pouch and deftly rolls his cigarette with one hand.
Mouth and hand; as good as two.

Grampa was a carpenter, he built his own garage,
hammered nails in planks
with only one hand.
Grip the hammer head and nail.
Nail hammer hand
knock the board to start.
two good strokes and thunk, it's in.
He never missed.

Grampa was Johnny Appleseed, he worked for orchards along the Hudson.
planted thousands before he went to work for the "State School" mowing lawns (lots of lawn there).
The "patients" always waved as we drove by but Daddy said not to wave back.
The exception was the parade. Every float covered in flowers and huge. We all waved as they marched down the long winding road from the hill proud to be a part of the joy.

His orchard was a mix.
Macintosh my Favorite
Greenings or Granny Smiths my second Favorite
Delicious my least favorite - seemed an ironical name.
Northern spies
Macouns

They sold them by the bushel and peck on the roadside.
Ahhhh, then there were gram's apple pies. But more on that later.