The Devil Winds have died down to a gentle breeze, and despite frost on the roof last night it has warmed up to a lovely 68 degrees, making for a beautiful Christmas Eve. Today while walking past this Granny Smith tree the apples bumped me on the head, and I detected a fruity aroma, not something I usually associate with Granny Smith. I tried one and wow, very sweet and crisp, a world apart from the ones in the store.
Granny Smith is an insane bearer here, and is one of the first apples I saw growing in Southern California. The first house I rented had a tree out back, and not knowing what they were, I used to hit the drops with the lawnmower. The previous renter told me you could eat them, and polished one up on her skirt for me to try. It was kind of novel to me that you could grow your own fruit (fruit came from a store, not your back yard).
Back in October they resembled the ones you see as grass green with white dots, and ranging from tart to flavorless. No one would ever buy the one in the photo, as it looks defective; but oh, the taste they’re missing out on. Another case for growing your own (if your season lasts through New Year’s).