
The rake and the bag worked really well for picking apples. Eventually, the rake was too short and I used an 8-foot piece of wood to knock apples down. I wish I had a 12-foot piece of wood, there are still a bunch of apples at about 20 feet that I just couldn't reach. (Actually I do have 12-foot wood, but it's 2x8 and too heavy to lift.) I got this half-bushel of gnarled, small, pockmarked apples from three trees. The small apples on the right side of the basket are from the Mcintosh tree. I don't know what kind the ones on the left are. Never figured it out.
The cider press is this amazing contraption with the grinder on the left and the press on the right. After the press has taken out as much juice as it can, you remove the right basket and dump the remainders, then slide the left basket to the right and start pressing again. I don't know how many hundreds of pounds of apples were pressed, but it was something like three pickup trucks' worth, plus my little gnarly, pockmarked apples (which were the worst, by far). Everyone else's apples were grocery-store quality, and free, gleaned from various places on Friday. You could stick a cup under the spout and get fresh apple cider, one day off the tree. It was the best apple cider I have ever tasted!
I wasn't keeping track - we probably made 40 gallons of cider. Several people brought 5-gallon plastic or glass bottles and added yeast to make hard cider. Someone took some of the spent apples to try and make apple liquor. Me, I got a few pitchers of apple cider to take home. Now I know what I'll need to bring next year, and I have some ideas of how to get better apples next year too. Yum.














The second map is an 1876 map. There are more roads on this map. I have a hard time believing there's only 24 years in between the two maps. That north-south road immediately to the left of the red word "house"? It doesn't exist in the same form any more. It's the western edge of my property. Interestingly, my house is built so that the front of the house faces this different road. 








Aqaba and southern Jordan is one of the most beautiful places on earth (at least in my opinion), in a very rugged and desolate way. The history there is longer than many places on earth. My father visited, and we got close to Lot's cave (closed for repairs), swam in the Dead Sea and brushed our fingers in the Jordan River. The below picture is of Wadi Rum, which is 45 minutes north of Aqaba, and where you can spend the night under the stars, hosted by bedouins. I made a promise to myself while under those stars that I would make an effort to bring more stars into my life - the beginning of the changes that brought me to this mountain in New York.
I got to experience the hottest time of year there, routinely 120 degrees F, and in September the Muslim month of Ramadan. Ramadan is a month of fasting from sunup to sundown, intended as a time of reflection and worshipping Allah and becoming better people and better Muslims. The evening breaking of the fast is a celebration of family and togetherness, and the month was very quiet during the days, and very noisy at nights. One day I was driving to Amman along the desert highway and noticed as sunset came near, that truckers were stopping near other truckers so they would not break their fast alone. They spread blankets out and gathered in groups for dinner as the sun set.
It looks like Pancho and Maggie have become friends. Compare this to some pictures I posted in early August when these animals were just meeting each other! I tried to get a better shot, but it's really hard to take good pictures of a black dog in a dark room.



The initial verdict is good! Immediately after I put them up, the inside temperature went up a few degrees. It was windy last night and the temperature got down to 25 degrees. Inside, it was 70-71 degrees using only the wood stove, which is a BIG difference from last year. And I wasn't pushing the stove in the slightest. 




