Just outside the fence that surrounded my "Jungle" there was an old apple tree. For me this tree was the "top of the hill" and marked the spot to which I would drag my "hand sligh" for the start of my long ride past the old hen yard, past the henhouse and finall ending up by the end of the vegetable garden at the bottom of the hill. The area had reciently been a pasture for my mothers horse later for some neighbor's cows so it was not too "grown up" with bushes and small trees. It made for an exciting ride for a young child.
The area around this apple tree became the final resting place for the physical remains of numerous well loved pet cats and dogs. This "pet cemetary" was a special place for me.
Much later in my life I made my home in a different part of New York state. This is apple growing country. Orchards abound. And I have a whole new appreciateion of the apple tree.