{"id":55988,"title":"Mira, the Orchard-Tree of Willaston","description":"From the Greengatherer\u2019s JournalOrchards are orderly places.  That is one of the reasons I like them.  Trees stand in rows","content":"

From the Greengatherer\u2019s Journal<\/strong><\/p>

Orchards are orderly places.<\/p>

\u00a0<\/p>

That is one of the reasons I like them.<\/p>

\u00a0<\/p>

Trees stand in rows. Branches are pruned. Fruit arrives when the season allows it. Leaves fall when their work is finished.<\/p>

\u00a0<\/p>

There are variations, of course.<\/p>

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And then there is Mira.<\/p>

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\"4tyg0jzoqdytyb0b3fjufhj88ryrslgw2i35edkvpww2omnd.jpg.jpg?w=1140&project=beastly-boroughs-416041&v=2\"<\/p>

She stands in an old orchard at Willaston, among trees that have been tended through more seasons than anyone now remembers. Her trunk carries the softened marks of old pruning, while younger branches have found their own way towards the light.<\/p>

\u00a0<\/p>

In daylight, there is little reason to choose Mira from any of the others.<\/p>

\u00a0<\/p>

I know which one she is.<\/p>

\u00a0<\/p>

Usually.<\/p>

\u00a0<\/p>

One Blossom<\/strong><\/p>

I visited the orchard late one autumn afternoon.<\/p>

\u00a0<\/p>

Most of the leaves had already fallen. Those remaining were yellowing at their edges, and the ground beneath the trees was scattered with the season's last colour.<\/p>

\u00a0<\/p>

I stopped beside Mira to make a note.<\/p>

\u00a0<\/p>

That was when I saw the blossom.<\/p>

\u00a0<\/p>

One small pink flower.<\/p>

\u00a0<\/p>

I looked at it for some time.<\/p>

\u00a0<\/p>

Then I checked the date in my journal.<\/p>

\u00a0<\/p>

It was definitely November.<\/p>

\u00a0<\/p>

\u201cMira,\u201d I said.<\/p>

\u00a0<\/p>

The blossom remained where it was.<\/p>

\u00a0<\/p>

The Orchard at Dusk<\/strong><\/p>

I continued along the row.<\/p>

\u00a0<\/p>

By the time I turned back, the light had begun to fade.<\/p>

\u00a0<\/p>

Mira was easy to find.<\/p>

\u00a0<\/p>

She had three blossoms now.<\/p>

\u00a0<\/p>

I counted them.<\/p>

\u00a0<\/p>

Then five.<\/p>

\u00a0<\/p>

This required closer investigation.<\/p>

\u00a0<\/p>

The flowers were real enough. Small, pale and delicate, growing from a branch that should have been preparing for winter.<\/p>

\u00a0<\/p>

There are occasional late blossoms on fruit trees. Weather can confuse a plant just as effectively as it can confuse a Greengatherer.<\/p>

\u00a0<\/p>

I wrote this down.<\/p>

\u00a0<\/p>

It was a perfectly satisfactory explanation.<\/p>

\u00a0<\/p>

Then I looked along the row.<\/p>

\u00a0<\/p>

There was blossom on the next tree.<\/p>

\u00a0<\/p>

And the next.<\/p>

\u00a0<\/p>

Out of Season<\/strong><\/p>

\u00a0I stood very still.<\/p>

\u00a0<\/p>

Pink flowers were appearing through the orchard.<\/p>

\u00a0<\/p>

Not everywhere.<\/p>

\u00a0<\/p>

Only here and there.<\/p>

\u00a0<\/p>

A handful on one branch.<\/p>

\u00a0<\/p>

Two on another.<\/p>

\u00a0<\/p>

Farther between the trees, I thought I could see something moving.<\/p>

\u00a0<\/p>

It was low to the ground and pale against the darkening grass.<\/p>

\u00a0<\/p>

I took one step towards it.<\/p>

\u00a0<\/p>

The shape disappeared behind a tree.<\/p>

\u00a0<\/p>

I waited.<\/p>

\u00a0<\/p>

Nothing emerged.<\/p>

\u00a0<\/p>

Then a branch moved farther along the row.<\/p>

\u00a0<\/p>

There was no wind.<\/p>

\u00a0<\/p>

I decided that was enough investigation for one evening.<\/p>

\u00a0<\/p>

Morning<\/strong><\/p>

I returned the following day.<\/p>

\u00a0<\/p>

The orchard looked exactly as an orchard should look in November.<\/p>

\u00a0<\/p>

Bare branches.<\/p>

\u00a0<\/p>

Fallen leaves.<\/p>

\u00a0<\/p>

No blossom.<\/p>

\u00a0<\/p>

I checked Mira first.<\/p>

\u00a0<\/p>

Nothing.<\/p>

\u00a0<\/p>

Then the neighbouring tree.<\/p>

\u00a0<\/p>

Nothing there either.<\/p>

\u00a0<\/p>

I walked the entire row.<\/p>

\u00a0<\/p>

At the far end, something pink lay in the grass.<\/p>

\u00a0<\/p>

I bent down.<\/p>

\u00a0<\/p>

A single blossom.<\/p>

\u00a0<\/p>

Fresh.<\/p>

\u00a0<\/p>

I put it between the pages of my journal.<\/p>

\u00a0<\/p>

Mira<\/strong><\/p>

I have visited Mira in spring since then.<\/p>

\u00a0<\/p>

At that time of year there is blossom everywhere, and consequently very little useful evidence.<\/p>

\u00a0<\/p>

Perhaps what I saw that November evening was nothing unusual.<\/p>

\u00a0<\/p>

An orchard responding strangely to mild weather.<\/p>

\u00a0<\/p>

A trick of fading light.<\/p>

\u00a0<\/p>

And whatever moved between the trees might easily have been an animal.<\/p>

\u00a0<\/p>

I am particularly comfortable with that last explanation.<\/p>

\u00a0<\/p>

But sometimes I wonder whether we have misunderstood the Orchard-Tree of Willaston.<\/p>

\u00a0<\/p>

Perhaps Mira doesn't wait for spring quite as patiently as the other trees.<\/p>

\u00a0<\/p>

And perhaps, when the orchard is quiet and nobody is there to tell her what season it is, she remembers blossom in her own way.<\/p>

\u00a0<\/p>

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