Written by Angela Goebel | 16 September 2010

Apples are a classic ingredient and metaphor.  Apples are beginnings. A picture of a rosy apple launches our education as we innocently recite the alphabet in kindergarten. Apples are desire. Their temptation supposedly pushed Adam and Eve out of the first documented food forest. They are a choice between wholesome apple pie or sinful cider. An apple a day keeps the doctor away. But, don't follow in Snow White's footsteps...avoid poisoned apples. And, doesn't a bushel of apples buy security?

The other day, I was walking through Samuel P. Taylor State Park. Imagine redwoods and voluptuous ferns. We followed a winding path that saddled up to a stream. Using the first permaculture principle of observation, I spotted one, two, three apples on the forest floor. I turned this way and that. Was there an apple tree nearby? No, no, a hiker must have dropped his snack. But wait, way above, fifty feet high or more, were branches laden with apples. Fifteen feet away was a second tree. They were robed in swampy grey moss; their bark was rugged and worn. Recognizing their great height, I surmised these apple trees must be more than a century old, perhaps dating back to the paper mill that once churned nearby.

The apples were not quite so sweet as candy. They possessed a slight tang. I laughed. Who would have thought to find apple trees in a grove of redwoods? However, apples are pioneers of our imagination and settlements. Apples have adapted to fit particular purposes and places.

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Share a picnic with dishes from A-to-Z at a twilight picnic on Sunday, October 10, 2010 at Hayes Valley Farm in San Francisco.

Read more about edible plants in the blog post series Nibbles from the Alphabet Garden. The Alphabet Garden is an open collaboration in urban farming, art, and technology, curated by Zoey Kroll/Edible Office.

Photos by Angela Goebel