by Violet Rebecca Jones
This aging building sits along the road leading from Traveler's Rest, SC to Flat Rock, NC. It is made of what appears to be local mountain stones with an open-air wooden addition built on one end. I feel certain it was once a roadside apple stand since this is apple country where the landscape is dotted with apple orchards and the promise of ripe apples draw people from everywhere in the fall when the crisp autumn air is filled with the scent of fresh apple cider served cold and apple cider donuts with cinnamon sugar served hot and steaming,
Many of the apple orchards have been in this area for many years, and as far back as I can remember, driving into this mountain region to buy bushels of apples has been a family excursion. There is something about this old, abandoned building brings back those early memories for me. The commercialized apple farms of today, where the owners offer all kinds of entertainment to draw in the tourists , simply do not compare to the joys of stopping at roadside stands with the family in search of the best, juiciest apples. Maybe it is because those days were simple and entertainment was something one usually created for one's self. The simple novelty of going for a long drive to buy apples was entertainment in itself. We lived in the country, so even going to town once a week to buy groceries was a treat. Going far afield on a Saturday was awesome. We would usually take along a picnic lunch, stop for bushels of fresh apples, and then stop at a roadside picnic area to eat our lunch, skip over rocks in mountain streams, and really enjoy just being together. We didn't spend much money, but I remember those afternoons better than any that required the purchase of a ticket to gain admission to some amusement park, arcade, or movie.
The next week would be spent helping my mother peel and cut most of the apples for freezing, the making of jams, and drying in the Indian Summer sun in preparation for winter pies and hot biscuits dripping with the taste of Winesap, Rome, and Granny Smith. I remember to this day the smell of apples drying under cheesecloth outdoors in the sun. Later, my mother would dry the apples in a car sitting in the sun, and the car would smell heavenly for days. The intense heat of the car would dry them in half the time it normally would take. We didn't have dehydrators, nor did we use the low setting of the oven. Those things were too expensive, so we did things the old-fashioned way as my mother had learned to do them throughout her life. Those apples made the best pies in the cold of winter, and I could taste all the memories that went into their making, from the apples busheled in baskets, to their sweet aroma drying in the sun.
My mother would always buy a small basket of apples for fresh eating, usually Red or Golden Delicious, and they would keep for what seemed like months. I remember once a door-to-door insurance salesman came by and saw our huge basket of apples. He asked if he could have one, and proceeded to rub it on his pants leg for over thirty minutes. My mother told him she would gladly wash it again for him if he wanted, but he said, " No, I just like mine real shiny." I don't know why that has stuck in my mind all these years, but after that day, whenever my mother or I polished an apple, we would say, " I like mine real shiny".
Perhaps that is one reason this old building seems to beckon to me so very much. Not only does it remind me of happy days as a child on our family quests for apples, but it also reminds me of a time when people used what they had, constructed their buildings, and their lives, in a simple manner wasting nothing, and asking for little in return. Today, we expect everything to be done on a grand scale. We flock to amusement parks where we can get an "experience" with our children, but the greatest experience we can give our children is the experience of life in all its simplicity and joys, the appreciation of our land in a natural setting, the "experience" of a simple farmer making a life for himself and his family in a roadside stand built from the natural elements of the environment, and yes, even the simple joys of polishing an apple until it shines.
To this day, when the air begins to turn cool and crisp, I yearn to ramble toward the mountains in search of apples.
Text and images copyright 2014 Violet Rebecca Jones
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