March 16, 2015
To My Brave, Upstanding Trees
By Daniel Schantz The sharp blade of my shovel slices into the soft dirt. I am planting an apple tree. I lift the heavy scoop of brown gold and fling it to the side, and the fragrance of fresh earth meets my nostrils. When the crater is about a foot deep and three feet wide, I stand my bare root apple stock in the middle and spread out the spidery roots. Then, I pack black loam over the roots until the cavity is filled, and stand back to admire my work. There”s not much to see. Just a “stick” about





