The Project Gutenberg eBook ofThe Apple-TreeThis ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online atwww.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook.Title: The Apple-TreeAuthor: L. H. BaileyRelease date: July 26, 2008 [eBook #26132]Most recently updated: January 3, 2021Language: EnglishCredits: Produced by Steven Giacomelli, Diane Monico, and the OnlineDistributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (Thisfile was produced from images produced by Core HistoricalLiterature in Agriculture (CHLA), Cornell University)*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE APPLE-TREE ***
This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online atwww.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook.
Title: The Apple-TreeAuthor: L. H. BaileyRelease date: July 26, 2008 [eBook #26132]Most recently updated: January 3, 2021Language: EnglishCredits: Produced by Steven Giacomelli, Diane Monico, and the OnlineDistributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (Thisfile was produced from images produced by Core HistoricalLiterature in Agriculture (CHLA), Cornell University)
Title: The Apple-Tree
Author: L. H. Bailey
Author: L. H. Bailey
Release date: July 26, 2008 [eBook #26132]Most recently updated: January 3, 2021
Language: English
Credits: Produced by Steven Giacomelli, Diane Monico, and the OnlineDistributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (Thisfile was produced from images produced by Core HistoricalLiterature in Agriculture (CHLA), Cornell University)
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE APPLE-TREE ***
A continuing company of genial little booksabout the out-of-doorsUnder the editorship ofL. H. BAILEY
1. The Apple-TreeL. H. Bailey2. A Home Vegetable GardenElla M. Freeman3. The CowJared Van Wagenen, Jr.
Others about weather and the sky, scenery,camps, recreation, quadrupeds, fishes, birds,insects, reptiles, plants, and the places in the open.
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICACopyright, 1922,ByTHE MACMILLAN COMPANY.Set up and electrotyped. Published January, 1922.FERRIS PRINTING COMPANYNEW YORK
CHAPTERPAGEI.Where There is no Apple-Tree7II.The Apple-Tree in the Landscape10III.The Buds on the Twigs15IV.The Weeks Between the Flower and the Fruit19V.The Brush Pile27VI.The Pruning of the Apple-Tree36VII.Maintaining the Health and Energy of the Apple-Tree41VIII.How an Apple-Tree is Made48IX.The Dwarf Apple-Tree54X.Whence Comes the Apple-Tree?60XI.The Varieties of Apple66XII.The Pleasant Art of Grafting79XIII.The Mending of the Apple-Tree85XIV.Citizens of the Apple-Tree89XV.The Apple-Tree Regions97XVI.The Harvest of the Apple-Tree102XVII.The Appraisal of the Apple-Tree107
1. The home apple-tree1. The home apple-tree
The wind is snapping in the bamboos, knocking together the resonant canes and weaving the myriad flexile wreaths above them. The palm heads rustle with a brisk crinkling music. Great ferns stand in the edge of the forest, and giant arums cling their arms about the trunks of trees and rear their dim jacks-in-the-pulpit far in the branches; and in the greater distance I know that green parrots are flying in twos from tree to tree. The plant forms are strange and various, making mosaic of contrasting range of leaf-size and leaf-shape, palm and grass and fern, epiphyte and liana and clumpy mistletoe, of grace and clumsiness and even misproportion, a tall thick landscape all mingled into a symmetry of disorder that charms the attention and fascinates the eye.
It is a soft and delicious air wherein I sit. A torrid drowse is in the receding landscape. The people move leisurely, as befits the world where there is no preparation for frost and no urgent need of laborious apparel. There are tardy bullock-carts, unconscious donkeys, and men pushing vehicles. There are odd products and unaccustomed cakes and cookies on little stands by the roadside, where the turbaned vendor sits on the ground unconcernedly.
There are strange fruits in the carts, on the donkeys that move down the hillsides from distant plantations in the heart of the jungle, on the trees by winding road and thatched cottage, in the great crowded markets in the city. I recognize coconuts and mangoes, star-apples and custard-apples and cherimoyas, papayas, guavas, mamones, pomegranates, figs, christophines, and the varied range of citrus fruits. There are also great polished apples in the markets, coming from cooler regions, tied by their stems, good to look at but impossible to relish; and I understand how these people of the tropics think the apple an inferior fruit, so successfully do the poor varieties stop the desire for more. There are vegetables I have never seen before.
I am conscious of a slowly moving landscape with people and birds and beasts of burden and windy vegetation, of prospects in which there are no broad smooth farm fields with fences dividing them, of scenery full of herbage, in which every lineament and action incite me and stimulate my desire for more, of days that end suddenly in the blackness of night.
Yet, somehow, I look forward to the time when I may go to a more accustomed place. Either from long association with other scenes or because of some inexpressible deficiency in this tropic splendor, I am not satisfied even though I am exuberantly entertained. Something I miss. For weeks I wondered what single element I missed most. Out of the numberless associations of childhood and youth and eager manhood it is difficult to choose one that is missed more than another. Yet one day it came over me startlingly that I missed the apple-tree,—the apple-tree, the sheep, and the milch cattle!
The farm home with its commodious house, its greensward, its great barn and soft fields and distant woods, and the apple-tree by the wood-shed; the good home at the end of the village with its sward and shrubbery, and apple roof-tree; the orchard, well kept, trim and apple-green, yielding its wagon-loads of fruits; the old tree on the hillside, in the pasture where generations of men have come and gone and where houses have fallen to decay; the odor of the apples in the cellar in the cold winter night; the feasts around the fireside,—I think all these pictures conjure themselves in my mind to tantalize me of home.
And often in my wanderings I promise myself that when I reach home I shall see the apple-tree as I had never seen it before. Even its bark and its gnarly trunk will hold converse with me, and its first tiny leaves of the budding spring will herald me a welcome. Once again I shall be a youth with the apple-tree, but feeling more than the turbulent affection of transient youth can understand. Life does not seem regular and established when there is no apple-tree in the yard and about the buildings, no orchards blooming in the May and laden in the September, no baskets heaped with the crisp smooth fruits; without all these I am still a foreigner, sojourning in a strange land.
The April sun is soft on the broad open fenced fields, waking them gently from the long deep sleep of winter. Little rills are running full. The grass is newly coolly green. Fresh sprouts are in the sod. By copse and highway the shad-bushes salute with their handkerchiefs. Apple-trees show tips of verdure. It is good to see the early greens of changing spring. It is good to look abroad on an apple-tree landscape.
As to its vegetation, the landscape is low and flat, not tall. There is a vast uniformity in plant forms, a subdued and constrained humility. A month later the leafage will be in glory, but that also will have an aspect of sameness and moderation. Perhaps the actual variety of species will be greater than in many parts of the abounding tropics, and to the careful observer the luxuriance will be as great, although not so big; but as I look abroad I am impressed with the economy of the prospect. It comes nearer to my powers of assimilation, quiets me with a deep satisfaction; the contrasts are subdued, the processes grade into each other imperceptibly in the land of the lingering twilight.
In this prospect are maples and elms and apple-trees. The maples and elms are of the fields and roadsides. Theapple-trees are of human habitations and human labor; they cluster about the buildings, or stand guard at a gate; they are in plantations made by hands. As I see them again, I wonder whether any other plant is so characteristically a home-tree.
So is the apple-tree, even when full grown, within the reach of children. It can be climbed. Little swings are hung from the branches. Its shade is low and familiar. It bestows its fruit liberally to all alike.
The apple is a sturdy tree. Short of trunk and short of continuous limb, it is yet a stout and rugged object, the indirectness of its branching branches adding to its picturesque quality. It is a tree of good structure. Although its limbs eventually arch to the ground, if left to themselves, they yet have great strength. The angularity of the branching, the frequent forking, the big healing or hollow knots with rounding callus-lips, give the tree character. Anywhere it would be a marked tree, unlike any other.
The bark on the older surface sheds in short oblong irregular scales or plates that detach perhaps at both ends and often at the sides, clinging by the middle until the curl loosens them and they fall to the ground. These plates or chips are more or less rowed up and down the trunk and on the larger branches, yet the apple bark is not ridged and furrowed as on the elm. The bark is not checked in squares as on old pear-trees nor peeling as on cherries. In dry weather, the loose old bark is dark brown-gray, often supporting gray lichens, but in rain it is soft and nearly black, yielding pleasantly to the touch. In the forks, the bark is not so readily cast and there the chips may lie in heaps. On the young limbsand small trunks the bark is tight and close, not splitting into seams or furrows with the expansion of the cylinder but stretching and throwing off detached flakes and chips. Under the chips various insects hide or make some of their transformations. There the codlin-moth pupates. The old remains of scale insects may be found on the exterior. In the furrows about the dormant buds the eggs of plant-lice pass the winter.
To destroy these breeding and hiding places, many careful apple-growers scrape away the loose bark, being careful not to expose the quick living tissue; and on the younger wood the eggs of aphis and other pests, as well as cocoons and nymphs, are destroyed by vigorous winter spraying. The regular spraying of apple-trees, in the different seasons, more or less sterilizes the bark. Many forms of canker, due to fungi and bacteria, invade the bark, making sunken areas and scars, often so serious as to destroy the tree. All these features are discoverable in the apple-tree.
The trunk of the apple-tree is short and stout, usually not perfectly cylindrical and not prominently buttressed at the base. In old trees it is usually ribbed or ridged, sometimes tortuous with spiral-like grooves, often showing the bulge where the graft was set. The wood is fine-grained and of good color, and lends itself well to certain kinds of cabinet work and to the turning-lathe for household objects; it should be better known.
2. The apple-tree in the landscape2. The apple-tree in the landscape
If left to itself, the tree branches near the ground, making many strong secondary scaffold trunks; but the plant does not habitually have more than one bole, even though it may branch from the very base; it is a real tree, even though small, and not a huge shrub. In the naturalcondition, the trunk often rises only a foot or two before it is lost in the branches; at other times it may be four or six feet high. Under cultivation, the lowest branches are usually removed when the tree begins to grow, and an evident clean trunk is produced. In Europe and the Eastern States, it has been the practice to trim the trunk clean to the height of four or six feet; but in hotter and drier regions the trunk is kept short to insure against sun-scald; and with the better tillage implements of the present day it may not be necessary to train the heads so high.
In old hill pastures, in many parts of the North, one sees curious umbrella forms and other shapes of apple-trees, due to browsing by cattle. A little tree gets a start in the pasture. When cattle are turned in, they browse the tender terminal growth. The plant spreads at the base, in a horizontal direction. With the repeated browsing on top, the tree becomes a dense conical mound. Eventually, the leader may get a strong headway, and grows beyond the reach of the browsers. As it rises out of grasp, it sends off its side shoots, forming a head. The cattle browse the under side of this head, as far as they are able to reach, causing the tree to assume a grotesque hour-glass shape, flat on the under part of the head, with a cone of green herbage at the ground. Sometimes pastures are full of little hummocks of trees that have not yet been able to overtop the grazers.
The winter apple-tree in the free is a reassuring object. It has none of the sleekness of many horticultural forms, nor the fragility of peaches, sour cherries and plums. It stands boldly against the sky, with its elbows at all angles and its scaly bark holding the snow. Against evergreensit shows its ruggedness specially well. It presents forms to attract the artist. Even when gnarly and broken, it does not convey an impression of decrepitude and decay but rather of a hardy old character bearing his burdens. In every winter landscape I look instinctively for the apple-tree.
We are so accustomed to the apple-tree as a part of an orchard, where it is trimmed into shape and its bolder irregularities controlled, that we do not think it has beauty when left to itself to grow as it will. An apple-tree that takes its own course, as does a pine-tree or an oak, is looked on as unkempt and unprofitable and as a sorry object in the landscape, advertizing the neglect of the owner. Yet if the apple-tree had never borne good fruit, we should plant it for its bloom and its picturesqueness as we plant a hawthorn or a locust-tree.
In winter and in summer, and in the months between, my apple-tree is a great fact. It is a character in the population of my scenery, standing for certain human emotions. The tree is a living thing, not merely a something that bears apples.
Now the buds begin to break. The firm winter-buds swell. Their scales part. Tips of green appear. Tiny leaves come forth, neatly rolled inward, growing as they expand, the stalks lengthening. Resurrection is astir in the tree.
Several leaves issue from every bud. From some buds arise only leaves; from others a flower-cluster emerges from the leaf-rosette, showing faint color even before it expands. Very close together and tight these unopened little flowers are packed as they emerge; if we had looked at them with a lens as they lay in the bud in the long winter we should understand why; now they escape their bonds and rapidly grow as they are delivered, yet at first pressed together by head and stem in their soft gray wool.
Thus are there two kinds of buds on the twig of the bearing apple-tree,—the leaf-buds (sending forth leaves only), and the flower-buds (bearing both leaves and flowers). And if we wish to analyze more closely, we discover two kinds of leaf-buds,—those that send forth a rapidly growing shoot bearing the leaves, and those from which the leaf-cluster remains practically sessile on the branch. These latter, or the strongest and best ofthem, will probably give rise to short fruiting spurs and the others to elongated leafy branches.
Before me as I write is an apple limb more than three feet long. It has been a vigorous grower, for it is only three years old. The years can be readily made out; there are two sets of "rings" separating them. You may see these rings on all young apple limbs. They represent the scars of the scales of the past terminal buds.
Three years ago my shoot was sent off from its parent branch; that year it grew but four inches, bearing leaves on its sides, in the axils of which developed buds for the winter and at the end a larger terminal bud. Let us call this shoot 1918. Two years ago (1919), whilst I was in a distant land, the terminal bud gave rise to a shoot nineteen inches long; two buds near the end of the 1918 shoot pushed out clusters of leaves and made spurs about one-half inch long; all the other buds, five in number, remained dormant, and now they are dead and are rapidly becoming mere scars. Last year (1920) the terminal bud of 1919 gave rise to a shoot fifteen inches long; three buds at the base of this two-year (1919) shoot remained dormant; fourteen buds produced spurs. It is now the spring of 1921; the 1920 shoot has four dormant buds at its base, ten rosettes of leaves from the other buds, and a pushing terminal shoot.
On my branch this year, therefore, are 5 plus 3 plus 4, or 12 dormant buds of all the years; 2 plus 14 plus 10, or 26 spurs; 1 terminal bud continuing the onward growth.
3. The bloom of the apple-tree3. The bloom of the apple-tree
It is evident that the last two years were good ones for my apple limb, for the growths were long (19 and 15 inches) and most of the buds produced spurs. The result is evidenced also in the fact that the limb is thisyear laden with potential bloom. On 1918 the two spurs bear flowers, one of them only a single bloom and the other five blooms. On 1919 twelve of the fourteen spurs are bearing flowers in the following numbers: 5 flowers, 5, 5, 7, 5, 6, 5, 5, 5, 5, 5, 5 = 63 flowers. On 1920 are no spurs bearing flowers, but the terminal bud (as is frequent on vigorous young trees) bears five flowers. Here, therefore, on this yard of three-year-old twig are seventy-four blossoms.
But there will not be seventy-four fruits; some of the flowers are small and weak; others, as the petals fall, show unmistakable signs of failing. A few of them show the plump form of an embryo apple: I think there are a score of such promises. But I know that others will fail later from physiological causes, and others probably from onslaught of insects or disease or from accidents. If six fair fruits mature on a branch like this, the crop will be good; and probably the branch would not have vigor enough to set as many fruit-buds the following year or to bear as many fruits.
It is good to watch the opening of the apple bloom: pink buds swelling and puffing out each day, the woolly stems elongating, the five overlapping incurving petals spreading and growing big, the stamens, about twenty, straightening up and lengthening their filaments that are attached on the flower-rim; the big light yellow anthers shedding pollen; the five green styles in the center. In some flowers the styles do not develop, and we have one reason why many flowers are sterile.
The flower-clusters differ much among themselves, in size of parts, number of flowers, color; on some trees the flowers appear in advance of most of the leafage, butusually they are coincident with the leaves. Sometimes the flower-stems or peduncles are branched, bearing two or three flowers, and in that case there may be a small green leaf or bract where the fork arises. The placing of the petals in the bud at the epoch of expansion may differ in two flowers on the same tree. One petal may stand guard outside the others and free from them, both edges uncovered, while the remaining petals are spiral with one edge under and one edge over; or there may be two guard petals, one on either side; or sometimes all the petals may be spiral, one margin out, one margin in; in some cases all the petals stand free as the flower is expanding, with no margin interlapping. Sometimes one petal is missing, and again the petals may be six.
This infinite variety within the bonds of so great regularity lends a subtle charm to natural objects, that is wholly absent in man's perfected machine-work. Man aims at uniformity, two and two alike; nature aims at endless difference, every object or even every member of an object having its own character. Much of man's energy is expended in trying to overcome the diverseness of nature.
Gradually and slowly the flower balloons enlarge and puff themselves up, the petals standing together at their tips; all the variety is united into a harmony of exuberance, color and form; then one day there is a shower of genial rain, a warm sun, birds in the air, bees released, grasses soft and lush, and behold! the apple-tree is in bloom,—a great heavenly mound of white and pink exhaling a faint delicious breath. Then the pulses stir, the dogs bark at the edges of the wood, the fields call, the scented winds lead on forever.
The petals expand broadly, usually losing most of their pink. The blade is oblong and rounded at the end, at first cupped and then nearly flat, three-fourths of an inch long, narrowed at the base into a short stem-like part and usually hairy there, the edges perhaps wavy but entire. The expanse of the flower may be one and one-half to two inches. The brush of stamens, erect in the center, sheds its pollen and the anthers collapse.
Then the petals fall, like flakes of snow, borne often by the wind. There remain the stout woolly flower-stems an inch or more long and bearing minute dry bracts, with the young fruit at the summit topped by the five recurving woolly sepals and the pencil of stamens and styles. The bloom being gone, the flowering system of the apple is thenceforth little observed. Not until the fruit begins to color do we come back to the apple-tree to look at it closely; yet in these intervening weeks some of the most interesting transformations take place, and on the exact observance of them depends to a large extent one's success in the rearing and saving of a good crop of apples.
Here is the flower of the apple-tree (Fig.3). It is acomely blossom, fragrant and pinky white, flatly spread to the sky, carrying the spirit of the cool of the spring. What concerns us now, however, is the cluster of stamens and pistils in the center, for these organs are directly concerned in the production of the fruit. The petals soon fall, but the remains of these interior organs persist, even unto the ripening of the fruit.
The anther is attached at the back of its base or middle to the top of the filament in the suture separating the two large cells. These anther-cells split along the outer margins, releasing the pollen-grains.
4. Longitudinal section of the flower.4. Longitudinal section of the flower.
In the center of the ring of stamens are the five style-branches, which are united at the base into a short hairy column; the column is borne on the ovary, which is sunken deep into the receptacle or stem (Fig.4). It is down these style-branches that the pollen-tube passes on its way to the ovules or embryo seeds. The top of the style is expanded into a cupped stigma on which are many glutinous points. One can observe the browning and ripening of the stigma after pollen has been deposited by wind, bees or other agencies. When the ovules are fertilized, the forming fruit enlarges regularly unless it meets with misfortune or is crowded out for lack of room and nourishment.
If one cuts across the ovary or embryo fruit below the recurving sepals, one will see under a lens that it isneatly five-celled (Fig.5). In each cell are two ovules; these, if all goes well, will ripen into ten seeds. These five cells comprise most of the diameter in the cross-section: but as the ovary enlarges and the young fruit grows, one may see that the inner part comprising the cells begins to have a character of its own and to be differentiated from the surrounding flesh.
5. Cross-section of the ovary.5. Cross-section of the ovary.
The "blossom" falls. In reality only the petals fall. What is left is well shown in Fig.6. Here remain the upstanding stamens with the empty anthers, and in the center one could see the five styles if the specimen were in hand. Here also are the calyx-lobes, widely spreading and even recurved. The photograph for Fig. 6 was taken May 3. On May 17 another cluster was photographed from the same tree (Fig.7). Three of the flowers have produced sturdy young apples. The stems or pedicels have become stouter, and they begin to spread. Note that the calyx now is closed, the old stamens protruding, a circumstance that will have special significance when we become acquainted with the codlin-moth. Note also that one flower has failed, and remains as it was two weeks earlier; it will soon fall. The young apples begin to take shape. They show a glow of red on the cheek. They are fuzzy all over. One of them is already injured on one side, having been stung by a curculio or other insect: there are keen senses about the apple-tree.
6. May 3—When the petals have fallen6. May 3—When the petals have fallen
7. May 17—When the young fruits begin to show7. May 17—When the young fruits begin to show
Two weeks later (May 31) still another cluster was taken from the same tree (Fig.8). Here are three fruits erect on their stems; one of them is more than an inchin diameter either way, sturdy and unblemished; another shows deformity due to insect puncture; the third remains small and presently will drop. A scar in the leaf-axil marks the failure of another flower. Four blossoms were in this cluster, but only one fruit now has a chance to come to uninjured maturity, and two have already failed. The big apple has now lost most of its fuzziness and begins to assume a delicate "bloom" on its surface; the smallest one—the one that soon will perish—still holds some of its fuzz. A section of this smallest fruit discloses empty cells; apparently it was not fertilized.
8. May 31—The success and failure8. May 31—The success and failure
9. June 14—The one big apple9. June 14—The one big apple
Another two weeks have passed. It is June 14th. From the same tree is taken the photograph, Fig.9. Here is a big apple, 1-1/2 inch in diameter; and there is a dead shrivelled fruit that dropped when I touched it. Of the several flowers in the cluster, all have failed but one. This one fruit has now passed the danger of the blossom-end infection by the codlin-moth and it has no blemishes. The many whitish spots characteristic of the variety are now conspicuous all over the surface. The ribs begin to show. There is a faint blush on the upper side. The fuzz has disappeared and the bloom is becoming evident. The calyx is tightly closed, although the tips of the sepals are spread widely. The stem is stout. The weight of the apple inclines it nearly to the horizontal. Yet this good apple is not symmetrical; one side is larger than the other. I cut it crosswise and find two cells on the larger side developing two strong seeds each, whilst those on the smaller side have a single seed each and one of these seeds is small and perhaps would not have matured. The fleshy part of the apple, outside the core, now occupies about as much of the diameter as the coreitself and much more than one-half the bulk of the fruit. Already my apple, now half grown, shows many of its distinctive characteristics.
Yet another fortnight has come and gone, and it is June 28th. It has been good "growing weather." Summer is here, full-orbed, regal, bringing the abundance of the earth. Here are two stout apples hanging on their stems (Fig.10), for they are now too heavy to be held erect. The larger fruit is a trifle more than two inches in diameter. The feature spots are now still more prominent on these apples, the ribs more pronounced, the blush against the sun more warm. Both these fruits, from one spur, will mature; but the smaller one will be blemished, for the apple-scab fungus has established itself on the crown and about the calyx. Already the growth is checked in that area, and the apple looks flattened. There is no evidence in either apple of codlin-moth invasion. The adjoining spur, not clearly shown in the photograph, is barren; it gave no flowers this year, and it shows no indication of a blossom-bud for next year. The leaves are thick and vigorous, yet they bear marks of insect injury and one of them has been extensively skeletonized. On the whole, however, the fruits have the mastery, and they now make a brave show.
10. June 28, and the apples have taken their form10. June 28, and the apples have taken their form
July has passed this way. Tomorrow it will be August. The odor of apples is now in my tree. There are big striped apples on the ground, plucked by the wind, the hold loosened by bugs for they too have felt the fullness of July. Three apples, one of them three inches through and two and one-half inches high, and the others nearly as big, hang at the level of my eyes. You may see them in Fig.11. Here rises again my boyhoodspent in an orchard now passed away, as father and mother have passed, as playmates have fallen one by one, the old place holding only memories. Here is my boyhood because the earth is always young and repeats her miracles for the children by my side as it did for me so many many years ago. Yet the miracles are greater now than they were then. They have more meaning. Now are they part of some great order. They are not separate. Without moving my feet, I lay my hands on apples, Virginia creeper, asparagus, marigold, sweet sultan, oxalis, plantain, crab-grass, white clover, all growing securely in one place, and everyone like unto itself alone. Here is the everlasting miracle before my eyes, and all miracles are mysteries. Once I thought I should understand such things when I was "grown up," but I find myself still a boy.
11. July 31, and the apples are getting ripe11. July 31, and the apples are getting ripe
These three apples on the last of the days of July look fair and sound, partly hidden in the leaves, the deep red colors covering them in broad splashed stripes and relieved by light dots. Yet when I raise the leaves or when I lift the apples apart, I find the burrows of insects. They know that these apples are good. It is astonishing how nature covers up the wounds, how she conceals the sore places, and how fair she makes everything look. Were it not that she covers the depredations of man, the earth would not long remain habitable by him.
Summer is ended. Today the sun is on the equator, and we are at the equinox when nights are equal to the days, as the word testifies. The harvest is over. The apples are no more. Yet the tree still is active and preparing for another year (Fig.12). The spurs are now thick and stout, bearing sturdy hard leaves. The bud inthe center is a big one, already recognized as a fruit-bud: here is the promise of speckled, furrowed, striped apples next August. Thereby I learn that it is not enough to be good to the tree in the year in which I desire its fruit: I must begin the year before, and the year before that, and even back at the time when the tree is planted; and if the tree at planting-time is not a good tree, it will be at a disadvantage perhaps all its life long.
12. September 22, and the buds are formed for the next year's crop12. September 22, and the buds are formed for the next year's crop
Finally the apple is ripe and ready. At the stem end is the "cavity," a depression, deep or shallow, according to variety, in which the stem is set. At the blossom end is the "basin," also with the characteristics of the variety as to depth and width and contour, in which the calyx-lobes persist, and inside the calyx are the remains of the dead stamens and styles; the calyx may be "closed" or "open," the character being a mark of the particular variety.
Cut the apple through the center lengthwise (Fig.13); note the curved outline of the core (the pistil) extending half or more across the fruit; if you do not see this outline, cut an apple until you do; carefully open the five cells or compartments and within the parchment walls find the two seeds attached by their points which are directed toward the stem end; perhaps one of the seeds has failed, but probably a cavity marks its place; perhaps both seeds have failed; perhaps the cell has more than two seeds.
13. The apples in section13. The apples in section
Cut an apple cross-wise: note the five radiating cells of the core, the number and attachment of the seeds; note the ten points, imbedded in the flesh, marking the outline of the core. Cut an apple cross-wise above the core and beneath it; note where these points vanishand try to harmonize them with the core-outline as seen in the lengthwise section; probably you will discover why you may not see the core-outline in all the lengthwise sections you make. Before you leave the fruit, note whether single seeds in a cell are the same shape as the two seeds in a cell.
The flesh outside the core-outline is interpreted to be stem structure rather than pistil structure. Sometimes an apple bears a scale-like leaf on its exterior, suggesting that the outer part of the fruit is stem. The older morphologists interpreted the apple flower to comprise a hollowed calyx (calyx-tube) inside which is the pistil and on the rim of which are the petals and stamens. The structure now is regarded as a hollowed receptacle or stem (hypanthium), with the pistil inside, the petals and stamens on its rim. We noted in the flower that the ovary part of the pistil is solidly imbedded in this receptacle, but that the five styles are free. The pear and quince are of similar structure, but the peach, plum and cherry are simple ripened pistils.
Here, in this chapter, we have discovered some of the epochs in the life of the apple. Usually we let the imagination run only to the mature fruit, thinking of the harvest, but in all the weeks before the harvest the apple has been growing and taking form. As these weeks have not been blank to the apple-tree, so shall they not be blank to me.
Today I visited the brush pile back of the orchard. Here the trimmings of the winter are placed, waiting to be burned when dry. How many are the archives that will be destroyed! Here are histories in every bud and twig and scar, of the seasons, of the accidents and deaths, the records of the tree as there are records of families.
These records are not written in numbers or in letters, nor yet in hieroglyphs; yet are they understandable. Alphabet is not needed, and the key is simple.
From the brush pile of records I took one. I must describe it in part by a picture (Fig.14). On the living trees at this writing the petals mostly have fallen and the leaves are nearly full grown. This branch was cut in winter. It has lain in the snow and rain, putting forth no flowers or leaves. Yet we can read it.
It is May, 1921. The terminal shoot is obviously of 1920; we shall name it No. 1. It is a foot long, smooth and glossy, terminating at the base (o) in a "ring" and at a short stub or branchlet. If we count the buds on all sides of the shoot and at the tip we find them to be 13. The largest one is at the tip, and they are mostly successively smaller toward the base. Apparently the growth-energy was expended in the upper parts of thetwig, making large full buds. In fact, the three or four lowermost buds are scarcely developed and would not grow unless the limb were broken off above them; they are dormant buds.
14. A three-year record.—In a leisure hour, trace the history of these parts; it will open your eyes.14. A three-year record.—In a leisure hour, trace the history of these parts; it will open your eyes.
Looking along the shoot, I find that every six buds stand in the same line: the sixth bud is over the first, seventh over the second, eighth over the third. If I were to fasten a string to bud No. 1 and wind it around the stem to my left, passing over every bud until I had reached the sixth, I should find that it had made two circuits of the stem (passed twice around it) and had passed over five spaces between buds. This is the leaf-arrangement or phyllotaxy of the apple-tree, expressed by the fraction 2/5. The space between two buds is two-fifths of a diameter, and two circuits (ten-fifths) must be passed before a bud comes over the one from which we started. The 2/5 leaf-arrangement obtains on cherry, peach, apricot, pear, raspberry and many others; but a very different order is that of the linden, grape, currant, lilies, elm, maple.
We cannot understand this simple unbranched terminal twig (No. 1) until we know what took place last year. A year ago, in the spring of 1920, a terminal bud that had formed in 1919 expanded and gave rise to this rapidly growing shoot. By the end of May or early June this shoot had grown to twelve inches long, for the growth in length on the twigs of trees is usually completed that early. This shoot bore leaves on the 2/5 arrangement; in the axil of every leaf was a bud, the strongest buds being with the strongest leaves at the middle and top of the shoot; in the autumn of 1920 these leaves fell, but the buds remained, persisted the winter, and were ready to "grow" in the early spring of 1921. We see them on No. 1 (Fig.14).
15. The growing shoot, with a bud in each axil, and a spur on last year's growth.15. The growing shoot, with a bud in each axil, and a spur on last year's growth.
In 1921 these buds on No. 1, then, would have grown. New leaves would have come from the bud itself; in fact,the winter buds of the apple are packed with miniature leaves and sometimes with flowers as well. The shoot coming out of the bud may remain very short, constituting a "spur," or grow with long internodes, making a slender twig. Fig.15shows a branch with new elongated growth,btoa, and a shoot or spur (c) arising from a bud of the previous year. Note the "ring," or division beyondb, marking the turn of the year.
It will be noted in Fig.14that the buds are of two shapes and sizes, such asa, a, a, representing one kind andb, b, the other kind. The former, small and pointed, are leaf-buds; from them will arise a shoot bearing only leaves. The latter,b, large and rounded and usually more fuzzy, are flower-buds (fruit-buds): from them will arise a short shoot bearing leaves and a cluster of flowers; and we hope that at least one of the flowers will set fruit.
We are now ready to resume our lesson with the branch before us. We have identified the slender terminal part, No. 1, as the growth of 1920. We are now to account for all the remaining buds and branchlets.
If No. 1 grew in 1920, then the main shoot of No. 2 grew in 1919, from the pointo o. It is also one foot long. Near its base are four small buds that remained dormant in 1920. There are nine branches (d) of various lengths besides the terminal shoot No. 1, all of which grew in 1920, for they are naturally a year younger than the main axis from which they arise; these branches are the same age as No. 1, with buds that would have produced shoots in 1921. But the terminal buds of eight of these lateral shoots (all but the lowermost) bear blossom-buds at the end; note their size and shape. Had not the branch been cut, these buds would have bloomed in 1921; the eight of themwould have produced probably forty to fifty flowers; perhaps two or three good fruits would have resulted. Note that two of the lateral branches or spurs are short and weak: these would soon perish. The No. 2 branch has a dead end (e); in some way the terminal bud was destroyed, and No. 1 sprang from a lateral bud beneath it, changing the direction of growth.
If No. 2 grew in 1919, then No. 3 grew in 1918. It also grew about one foot in length, showing that the conditions in the three years must have been very uniform. There are remains of five dormant buds at its base. There are seven side branches. As the main axis is three years old, so these lateral shoots are two years old; they are the same age as the axis No. 2. The lower one (s) grew less than an inch in 1919, and made a fruit-bud; in 1920 it blossomed and one fruit set as is shown by the square scar at the end; as the scar is small and the twig weak, we are safe in assuming that the apple was very small or else did not mature. A bud formed at the side ofsto continue the growth of the spur next year (1921), but it is a leaf-bud; apparently there was not sufficient energy to bear flowers and to make a fruit-bud; so there would have been no more fruit on this spur earlier than 1922: thus do we see that the alternate bearing of the apple-tree may have some of its origin in the fruit-spur.
The side spurfproduced a terminal blossom-bud in 1919. In 1920 six flowers opened,—I could count the scars. One of the flowers produced a fruit, as I tell by the square scar at the end; the thickened stem also indicates fruit-bearing. The side bud in this case is a fruit-bud, but it is small and weak and is probably incapable of producing a fruit. There are no strong leaf-buds to take up the work, and thisspur (f) would probably soon have died, as also would spurs.
The side shootggrew tohin 1919 and made a flower-bud. In 1920 this bud gave blossoms and one fruit resulted; the scar is prominent and there is an enlargement of the tissue indicating that the fruit probably attained good size; in 1920 also, two side spurs were formed each with weak blossom-buds, also a terminal shoot (beyondh) with leaf-bud at the end.
The other shoots have similar histories: the long shootibore a fruit-bud atkin 1919 and a fruit in 1920; in 1920 it also made three lateral shoots and a terminal shoot, with flower-buds terminating two of them. Shootlbore flowers at its point in 1920 but did not carry the fruit to maturity; it also made two side growths and one terminal growth, all terminated by flower-buds, to be blown in 1921. The shootmis a short spur that made a flower-bud in 1919 and in 1920 carried three little fruits for a time and made a flower-bud in 1920. Shootnremained very short in 1919, making a terminal leaf-bud; in 1920 it grew two inches and made a weak flower-bud.
If shoot No. 3 grew in 1918, then No. 4 grew in 1917; but the branch is severed and I cannot trace the record farther. We could trace the family history many years if we had the unpruned tree before us.
Here, then, in my yard-long manuscript are forty bud-records on the main axis, counting the terminals on No. 2 and No. 3. I can find record of 144 buds on the side shoots. This makes a grand total of 184 buds. There is a total growth in length of 108 inches, or 9 feet. Each of the buds that has already "grown" has produced an average of probably ten leaves, or say 340 leaves in total. If there were anaverage of five flowers to the cluster, then about 150 flowers would have been carried on my branch, with the potentiality of 150 fruits; but in fact not more than three or four maturing fruits would have been produced in these years: and I should think this a good proportion as blossoms and apples go. Certainly the branch has done its part. There have been three eventful years.
I would not have my reader to suppose that one may always distinguish leaf-buds and fruit-buds at a glance. I may be mistaken in some of the above determinations, but they are essentially correct for I have the twig before me. In some varieties of apples the differences between the two kinds of buds are less marked. The certain way is to dissect the bud: one may then see what it contains.
It now remains to determine how the branch was placed in the tree. It must have been upright or very nearly so, for the main axis is essentially straight and the branchlets are about equally developed on all sides; moreover, there is no indication in the bark that one exposure was the "weather side." The big twigiapparently found a light and unoccupied space into which to develop, but its extension is not greatly out of proportion. I suppose, however, that my branch was not topmost in the tree; there is no indication in very long growth or strong upward tendency of the branchlets to mark the branch as a "leader."
Years ago I became fascinated with the study of knots and knot-holes in the timber of wood-piles. They are excellent records of the events in the life of trees. In print I have tried to show what they mean. I also worked out the life-histories of twigs and published them in nature-study leaflets and elsewhere. Hundreds of children were interested in the twigs and buds, finding them unusual, everyone of them a different story, and yet not difficult to read. These lessons gave meaning to trees and seasons. Such observations have always meant much to me, even when made in the most casual way in the midst of constraining activities. And now in this later day I come back to a bare twig with all the joy of youth. The records of the years are in these piles of brush.
We have found that not all the buds grow. We also know that some of the spurs and shoots perish, not alone from accident but from defeat in the struggle to live. The chances of success are relatively few. The pruning process begins early in the life of the tree, and it continues ceaselessly until the end.
To the apple-tree in the wild, strict pruning is the assurance of success. No tree can reach maturity unless more parts perish than are able to live. The young forest tree has branchlets and leaves along its side and at the top. All these perish as the trunk rises, often leaving marks on the bark, curls in the wood, and knot-holes large and small. Thousands of perished buds and branches are the price of a straight bole and great clear sheets of boards. Yet these perished parts bore their burden in their day and time, and contributed to the ultimate success: there could have been no tree without them.
Any tree-top discloses the pruning in action if one looks intently. Part of it is recorded in the buds that never put forth a leaf; more of it in little shoots left behind; and there are large and small limbs, dead and dying, yellowing apparently before their time, hanging on till the last hold is broken. Were it not for the benevolentprocesses of decay, the ground would be strewn with the fallen parts accumulating through the years.
In nature, the great result is to yield abundant quantity of seeds, that the species may propagate itself after its kind. Man may desire fruits relatively few, but large of size and excellent of quality, without spot or blemish; this means greater opportunity and care to the single fruit. Pruning is essential, to converge the energy of the plant into fewer branches, to give the fruits space and light, to increase the efficiency of measures for the control of diseases and insects. Part of the pruning consists in removing certain branches, and part of it in eliminating the fruits themselves by the careful process of thinning.
The pruning of nature is fortuitous. The tree has the irregularity and abandon of the picturesque. The pruning of man is for a different end, and it produces the comely well-proportioned tree of the orchards. The tree becomes a manipulated subject, comforting to the eye of the thrifty pomologist.
Branch-pruning is essentially the removal of superfluous branches,—those that crowd, that cross each other, that are so placed as to be profitless, that are in the way, that are injured or diseased. For the most part, the branches should be removed when they are small; but it is not possible to foresee all that may be needed in the training of the tree and, therefore, the frequent advice to prune only with a hand-knife cannot be followed. One needs a sharp pruning-saw and sometimes a chisel on a long handle. Usually it is not necessary to remove branches more than an inch or one and one-half inch in diameter if pruning is carefully practiced every year; butsometimes even well-pruned trees must be shaped, corrected and improved by the cutting of larger branches.
Pruning is usually best performed in early spring. The branch should be cut close to the main limb or trunk and parallel with it, leaving no stub; the healing process is then likely to proceed more rapidly. The wound should be smooth and clean, without breaks, splinters or splits; the knot-holes in logs and trunks are usually the consequence of long "stubs" and torn injured parts. The tree is to be left shapely, with a uniform distribution of branches, plenty of fruit-bearing wood, easy to spray and from which to pick the fruit, of the form characteristic of the variety.
In all the usual customary pruning of the apple-tree, dressing of the wounds is not necessary. It is much more important to give the added attention to the proper making of the wounds and the thoughtful choice of the parts to be removed. Wounds two inches and more in diameter may be protected with good paint, so that they will not check and therefore not hold water, until the callus covers them. Good judgment in pruning is more profitable than recipes to repair damage.
Fruit-pruning, or thinning, is the removing of so much fruit, when it is small, as will allow the remainder to mature to its best and constitute a maximum yield; it reduces the quantity of inferior fruit, lessens the number of culls and the labor at packing time, conserves the energy of the tree by preventing the maturity of great numbers of seeds, diminishes diseases and pests. The overloading of the tree not only imposes a heavy tax on its vitality but is likely to break the limbs and to work much physical damage.
Thinning may consist in removing part of the fruit in the cluster (in the case of varieties that tend to mature more than one fruit from each flower-cluster), in picking all the fruits from certain clusters or pairs of clusters, or in cutting away some of the fruit-spurs before blossoming time.
The removal of the fruit itself is usually performed after the "June-drop," when the extent of the crop is evident. The fruits are pulled off by hand or cut with thinning-shears, the latter practice being the better since it is not so likely to break the fruit-spurs. The least promising fruits are taken away and the remaining apples are left at least five or six inches apart in most varieties. The extent of thinning must be governed by the variety, thrift of the tree, result desired, and other conditions. To secure the best results, the apples should be thinned when still small.
Thinning by early-spring removal of fruit-spurs is a very special practice. It is employed on dwarf trees and on those specially trained. It should be undertaken only by a careful and experienced man. It is not to be inferred that the fruit of the apple is all borne on spurs, for some of it may be derived from terminal buds on the new axial growths or even from lateral buds; but the spurs are conspicuous and readily recognized. Of course the ordinary pruning of the tree removes fruit-bearing wood and is therefore a thinning process.
Within sensible limits, therefore, pruning is an invigorating process in the sense that it deflects the energy to remaining parts of the tree. What is called too heavy pruning, whereby the tree throws out abundance of water-sprouts, is illustration of this fact: the tree isthrown into heavy growth of adventitious shoots. The tree may not produce more pounds of substance, or even more total feet in length, but new energy is developed in certain parts.
In the restoration, or so-called renovation, of old neglected trees, the two primary considerations are to prune vigorously and to till and fertilize the land. Sometimes old trees must be mended as explained in Chapter XIII. Of course they must be sprayed for what ails them. If the variety is poor, the tree may be top-grafted (Chapter XII). In some cases, it is hardly possible to make neglected trees bear satisfactorily, for they were never of value: there is nothing to restore. It may be a question of soil and location, of lack of pollination, of trees so weak or so misshapen that effort on them is wasted. But tillage, pruning, spraying, should produce worth-while results in most cases.
In the care of the fruit-tree there is no practice which brings the grower into such intimate knowledge of the plant as that of pruning and thinning. The operator sees the tree as a whole, taking it all in; then he sees it in small detail in all its parts, even to the spurs and buds. With simple good tools, sharp and keen, and with a practiced eye, he applies a deft and swift handicraft, cutting true, making a fair clean wound, leaving the tree comely and ready for its highest effort. The pride of good workmanship may find expression. The operator feels also the sense of mastery that is in him, whereby he corrects the tree, removes the wayward parts, keeps and encourages all that is best. To engage in this kind of education requires that one approaches the work with due preparation of mind and I think also with consecration of heart.