Apples, apples and I can’t eat them

Catherine's picture

We have a small orchard, which is very beautiful in the spring and great fun during the summer. At least if you can eat apples. I can’t because I am allergic. If I eat a raw apple, my throat starts to swallow and I can’t breath after a while. 

I can eat apple pies, jam and other types of cooked apples. I just can’t eat them raw. I have a food allergy and fruits are one of the most difficult ones. Take grapes for example; depending on the type of grape and its skin, I can sometimes eat them. Same thing with tomatoes and bananas, I can eat some of them, but most of the affects my breathing. Over the years my husband have learned an interesting skill; he can distinguish which grapes I can and can not eat. A few times, when he is unsure: it usually means that I can’t eat them.

Yes I do try to eat stuff, even though I know it might not work. And yes, the allergy medication is close by just in case. Any way, back to apples.

We were picking apples in the garden when my husband suddenly says:

“You know what, I actually think you can eat this. Do you want to try” He removed a piece from the apple he was eating and gave it to me, making sure it was no skin on it since that can make things worse. I ate the tiny little piece of apple and didn’t feel a thing.

“Give me another one” I said. One more apple piece, still nothing. Two more, nothing.

“Give me the apple” I said and dug my teeth into it. I can’t remember the last time I ate an apple. The feeling when I stood there in the orchard chewing on that beautiful little apple; well I owned the world. 

I don’t know what’s so special with that one little apple tree. I don’t know the variety and no one I’ve asked recognizes it. The tree was planted around 1890 and for some strange reason; I can eat the apples.

At least one of the trees in our orchard produces an apple that I’m not allergic to. Small things like that makes me feel that this house was meant for us.

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