NATIONAL TRUST - BROCKHAMPTON ORCHARDS

In May 2022, Corinne Frost, cellist and Helena Tibocha were invited to be a part of the Brockhampton Restored-Orchards Launch. Corinne played music inspired by Helena's orchard-themed poetry and a fantastic time was had by all! Helena premiered three generations of family poets, inspired by petals and apples.

THE WORLD ACCORDING TO APPLES

Two thousand green apples hang on the tree,
enough to break its branches down.
I thin a thousand one May afternoon
to save the tree and bring my harvest home.
June nights, silent grey moths mate
in the limbs, then one female flutters
blossom to blossom in the dark, lays
her tiny eggs in nearly every fruit.
One July afternoon, huge anvil clouds
arise, white hailstones thunder down,
shredding leaves, bruising half the fruit,
bringing down what can’t hold on.
August days, the red squirrels walk
the tightrope telephone lines, scamper
through the tree, nibble, taste the green
skins, let fall the sour on their tongues.
September and colour coming on, blue
jay, starling, flicker, magpie fill the red
fruit with birdpecks everywhere–
a free feast they keep up for weeks.
October. Windfalls red in dying grass.
I leave them there for the doe and her
twin fawns sneaking down the mountain
every night, eating every apple up.
Today, I pick the remnant fruit, cut out
bruises, birdpecks, worms, cook one batch
of butter, make one pie to eat, one poem
to make it sweet—a la mode.
My harvest mostly lost, the tree, at least, is whole.
One more year, I gave my life away to hunger.
All winter I will see these apples I let go
fly and feed and pray around me in the snow.

© George Venn 9/9/2002

Blossoming

I am watching you fall in love
I recognise, The Look
The softening of the eyelids
Appreciation fluttering in your lashes
I see the breath taken away, your chest rise.
I remember falling in love at your age
I’d been blind beforehand too
Looking but not seeing
Thereness, but not feeling.
One day, they just got me
Like mine have got you
And I saw my Mother differently, as
Perhaps, you will see me.
I think of my Abuelas geraniums
I never saw them, but in the village
They are still legend
You see, the generational love affair
Continues from bouquet to bouquet.

© Helena Tibocha - Streams of Gold

Like Snow Before Morning Sunlight

I love choosing my path between the puddles
they force me to take steps beyond habit
and to make careful decisions.
Frosted apple blossoms litter the paving
the only form of blemish it welcomes –
petals rain and form their own puddles
like snow before morning sunlight.
When I become distracted, taken from the moment
I stop being careful and step in a puddle.
My feet become wet and cold and damp
annoyed, I could walk like a tramp or
I could keep walking, watch again
learn how to be more careful until my feet dry out
like snow in the morning sunlight.

© Caley-Maria Cavan, 2022

Apple Wisdom

An apple tree is called an apple tree even if it doesn’t have apples.
We’re not confused about its identity,
Waiting for it to fruit before being clear.
We are not defined by our fruit -
We are identified by what we’re created to do.
Not by what we’ve done but what we have the gift for.
Consider the apple tree
Consider yourself
What is your gift to this world?

© Helena Tibocha, for Brockhampton Orchard Relaunch, May 2022

GALLERY