Despite the heat and drought, this has been a good year for fruit production on our Littleton, Colorado, farm. A mild spring, devoid of a late hard freeze, has led to large crops of apples, pears, chokecherries, wild cherries, Oregon grapes and mulberries; we've even had a fair number of apricots and peaches, an unusual occurrence since those trees bloom early, during the fickle weather of March. But this year's productivity award goes to the crabapple trees, especially a large one next to our garage.
Loaded with more fruit than I have ever seen in an individual tree, the crabapple has started to drop its cargo early this year, likely in response to the hot, dry weather. The small, hard, sour apples litter our backyard and every small breeze produces another windfall, drumming against the garage roof and pelting the ground like hail. Yet, an abundant supply remains within the tree, glowing amidst the green leaves during the day and regularly thudding to earth overnight, often awaking us from sleep.
A fastidious lawn master may be disgruntled by this crabapple bonanza but we let the farm naturalize as much as possible. Mule deer wander in to munch on the fruit and raccoons, skunks and mice surely raid the fallen apples at night; even our resident fox joins in the feast. While some birds such as jays, magpies and waxwings may eat crabapples, most songbirds are attracted to the insects that invade the fruit or to the nectar that those blighted apples liberate. Despite their firm, tart pulp, crabapples have long been harvested by humans as well, who use them to produce chutney, jellies, sauces or juice; like other apples, they are nutritious, rich in fiber and antioxidants.
