ontal. Yet this good apple is not symmetrical; one side is
larger than the other. I cut it crosswise and find two cells on the
larger side developing two strong seeds each, whilst those on the
smaller side have a single seed each and one of these seeds is small
and perhaps would not have matured. The fleshy part of the apple,
outside the core, now occupies about as much of the diameter as the
core itself and much more than one-half the bulk of the fruit.
Already my apple, now half grown, shows many of its distinctive
characteristics.

Yet another fortnight has come and gone, and it is June 28th. It has
been good "growing weather." Summer is here, full-orbed, regal,
bringing the abundance of the earth. Here are two stout apples hanging
on their stems (Fig. 10), for they are now too heavy to be held erect.
The larger fruit is a trifle more than two inches in diameter. The
feature spots are now still more prominent on these apples, the ribs
more pronounced, the blush against the sun more warm. Both these
fruits, from one spur, will mature; but the smaller one will be
blemished, for the apple-scab fungus has established itself on the
crown and about the calyx. Already the growth is checked in that area,
and the apple looks flattened. There is no evidence in either apple of
codlin-moth invasion. The adjoining spur, not clearly shown in the
photograph, is barren; it gave no flowers this year, and it shows no
indication of a blossom-bud for next year. The leaves are thick and
vigorous, yet they bear marks of insect injury and one of them has
been extensively skeletonized. On the whole, however, the fruits have
the mastery, and they now make a brave show.

[Illustration: 10. June 28, and the apples have taken their form]

July has passed this way. Tomorrow it will be August. The odor of
apples is now in my tree. There are big striped apples on the ground,
plucked by the wind, the hold loosened by bugs for they too have felt
the fullness of July. Three apples, one of them three inches through
and two and one-half inches high, and the others nearly as big, hang
at the level of my eyes. You may see them in Fig. 11. Here rises again
my boyhood spent in an orchard now passed away, as father and mother
have passed, as playmates have fallen one by one, the old place
holding only memories. Here is my boyhood because the earth is always
young and repeats her miracles for the children by my side as it did
for me so many many years ago