“Even if I knew that tomorrow the world would go to pieces, I would still plant my apple tree.”—Martin Luther Outside my office window, the apple tree beckons me to take a writing break. It’s a crisp fall day, and red apples dangle from the branches like Christmas ornaments. Around a half-century old, the tree stands alone on a hillside and functions as a crossing guard for all the animals that pass by: turtles, deer, groundhogs, and even otters.
I can’t recall ever seeing a more perfect tree, and I have Pete, an arborist that my boyfriend and I found on the listserv in our small Vermont town, to thank for that. Earlier this year, Pete graciously spent an afternoon giving our apple tree a makeover. He promised that it…
