My neighbor insisted I remove my apple tree—then one morning, I woke up to my entire yard buried in apples.

boards, and cider presses.

Children picked apples under supervision. Mrs Patel showed several teenagers how to make apple butter. Someone burned the first pie, and someone else added far too much cinnamon to the cider.

The entire street smelled sweet.

For the first time, Dean’s tree no longer felt like something I needed to protect on my own.

It had become continue reading …