As it turns out, I'd written so much about triggers and shame on Narnian's Passport, that it turned out to be a source of both. Couldn't even bring myself to link "clean, happy" posts to my Facebook account, just because the name was, itself, depressing to me.
Which... It had always been a Freudian name. What I'd intended was along the lines of "passport to Narnia," but, of course, a passport belonging to a Narnian would be for travel away from Narnia. Given the topics generally discussed on that blog, the meaning does seem a bit too "on the nose." Narnia represents magic, fellowship, worship, knowing that all will come out right, and being responsible and respected even as a kid. Don't think I had much of any of that during the time I used that blog.
Meanwhile, the Apple Orchard. All the best memories of my childhood were associated with apples. When I was little, the woman of the church would have someone with a pickup truck fetch a bed's worth of apple bushels from a local orchard and then they'd spend the day canning apple sauce, apple juice, and apple pie filling while a pot of chicken noodle soup boiled in the youth room for us to feast afterwards.
Once, one of the woman put on songs from the eighties and was rocking out to them. They big boys all were conspiring together - you could see the smirks - and then one of them strode up to her and asked "so, are these songs from when you were my age? Like, back in the sixties?" The rest of us kids were treated to the sight of a most entertaining impromptu foot face around the gym.
Apples... One of the jobs I had as a youth was to man the fruit stand for a local farmer. We sold nothing there but apples. Jonathan's, Galas, McIntosh, deliciouses of every color... but I don't think Honey Crisps were a thing back in the nineties. I don't remember hearing about them until late the next decade, when I came back from college and, suddenly, Honey Crisps were all anyone wanted and all the farmers had them.
Taste sweeter than nectar and ambrosia, heaven-made food for the gods. Honey Crisps are awesome.
So, whenever I see my blog name now, I smile and relax a little, thinking of things that make me happy - friends, good food, and fields of white blossoms in the best part of spring, when winter has broken and all the world is glad to be alive.
I think of bonfires in the early spring, when the sap just starts to rise and all of last summer's growth is cut back and burned. The sweet smell of the smoke and the warmth of the fire as the snow lies, white and sharp, between the hummocks of old grass.
I think of the orchard on the hillside, trees all uprooted, the horror of wondering if a developer had bought the land, and the delight in seeing the young, new trees planted. Orchard renewal, absolutely necessary, but it was still so spooky and melancholy, seeing all those trees on their sides with their roots in the air.
The hustle and bustle of farmers' market, everyone socializing as they looked for a bargain. Many farmers and customers became good friends.
The friends we have, the friends we lose... the good times still remembered.
And, always, the taste of sweet, firm, sun-warmed fruit straight off the tree as you stroll among the rows, sun on your back, dirt in your shoes, the endless waves of green spreading out before you, shades and shades of it - dancing apple leaves; tall, spiky grass; deep green maples in the distance, and, above that, a brilliant blue sky.
The apple blossom is the Michigan state flower.
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