As winter set in, another coating of earth was put upon it,
with perhaps an overcoat of coarse dry stable manure, and the precious
pile was left in silence and darkness till spring. No marmot
hibernating under-ground in his nest of leaves and dry grass, more cosy
and warm. No frost, no wet, but fragrant privacy and quiet. Then how
the earth tempers and flavors the apples! It draws out all the acrid
unripe qualities, and infuses into them a subtle refreshing taste of
the soil. Some varieties perish; but the ranker, hardier kinds, like
the northern spy, the greening, or the black apple, or the russet,
or the pinnock, how they ripen and grow in grace, how the green becomes
gold, and the bitter becomes sweet!
As the supply in the bins and barrels gets low and spring approaches,
the buried treasures in the garden are remembered. With spade and axe
we go out and penetrate through the snow and frozen earth till the
inner dressing of straw is laid bare. It is not quite as clear and
bright as when we placed it there last fall, but the fruit beneath,
which the hand soon exposes, is just as bright and far more luscious.
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