Wiz up Kingoodie me and Simon spotted a cracker o a yelly aipple tree hinginoor the bankin. Loaded. An unhandy site though but we decided to go for it. Taen ten bags of , in aming nettles an that, stung tae bits but we’re well used tae it. Now this was defin etely on no mans land by the road so dinnae be gien us it. We christened it ‘Kingoodie’ fur future ref.I popped through ti the other side and here’s this wee beauty o a rid aipple tree in someone’s garden. I shouted ‘aipples,’ and then realised there’s someone standing there. I sez, ‘I’ll buy these aipples aff ye. He’s like,’ Ah well I’d need tae see Boab, he’s just awa.’ Right fine, there’s no that many oan it anywise. Boy comes alang later. I’ve seen Ian, he says it’s aright, thir jist wasted anywy. So picks it and carryin them oot. Younger lad comes in says ‘Wha said ye cid pick them? I’m like, ‘Jim and Ian, Boabs no here.’ He sez aright Ians ma dad. Carries it a intae the van. I takes a couple o boattles cider tae Ians door; it wiz oanly the one bag of that tree (the singin, ringin tree) wurth technically one bottle. He’s like whit aboot Boab. I sez ye could share them, (Big boattles) thinkin social like. He sez yi might gie us anither ain. Chancin get! How minny fowk own that bloody tree?
The Aipple Tree Collective
Posted in Winery Life