How Do Ya Like Them Apples?

When the leaves fell, I remarked to Husband, "Ken didn't harvest his apples!" From our window beside the kitchen sink we can see Ken's trees just across the fence, some branches bending low over to our side. They were bare, except for a truly fine unharvested bunch of apples.

Ken had knee surgery on both knees this fall. Friends from church kept his grass mowed during the time he couldn't tend to his yard, and more recently we've shoveled his driveway. But none of us thought to harvest his apples. I envisioned them rotting right there on the tree and dropping onto our side, making a bit of a mess. However, being a rather laid-back sort about our yard--other than wanting it regularly mowed--I didn't spend further thought on it.

Then yesterday I looked out of the window and was completely transfixed. Ken's apple trees, bowed down under a load of snow, were under a full-scale assault by fluffed-out starlings. Not that I know what a starling looks like; I trust my husband's powers of bird identification. The birds were enthusiastically making quick work of the now-frozen apples. Some of the fruit was already half pecked away.

So, in the end, our inattention resulted in a treat for Nature. I kinda like it when things turn out that way.