Golden Apples

…well they’re actually cranberries but they reminded me of tiny apples which always makes me think of the line ‘the golden apples of the sun’…

I set off for some wet and damp fresh air on Barton before the Wimbledon final. I went in search of the cranberries but am too late for the flowers … I was pleased to see the first signs of the berries though.

Exhausted from watching the final but I can only imagine how the feel after  such an astonishing match. 

W.B. Yeats - The Song of Wandering Aengus

I went out to the hazel wood,
Because a fire was in my head,
And cut and peeled a hazel wand,
And hooked a berry to a thread;
And when white moths were on the wing,
And moth-like stars were flickering out,
I dropped the berry in a stream
And caught a little silver trout.

When I had laid it on the floor
I went to blow the fire a-flame,
But something rustled on the floor,
And someone called me by my name:
It had become a glimmering girl
With apple blossom in her hair
Who called me by my name and ran
And faded through the brightening air.

Though I am old with wandering
Through hollow lands and hilly lands,
I will find out where she has gone,
And kiss her lips and take her hands;
And walk among long dappled grass,
And pluck till time and times are done,
The silver apples of the moon,
The golden apples of the sun.