Much Ado about...Something

"Ye shall know them by their fruits."

The ancient, gnarled apple tree in our backyard is at it again -- dropping little green apples all over the lawn. By fall, it will be shedding red macintoshes -- lumpy, cancerous looking machitoshes with suspicious little holes. So I don't think I'm ready to go into the orchard business. They're ugly things, only appetizing to squirrels and ants. I don't really mind, though. Someone once asked me why we don't cut down the apple tree. It would make our smallish urban backyard more spacious, and the neighbors' huge evergreen would still supply some shade. But I said no. I like the idea of living with an apple tree. Apples are such loaded symbols: sin and temptation, but also love and life. Immortality. Health, luck, generosity. Desire and corruption. Cool computers. The Beatles. Sourness and sweetness. Rotten apples. Golden apples of the sun. Perfection and imperfection. Contradictions. They're a lot like people...like every person I know, including myself. So I'm determined to keep that tree.