Freddie's Crab Apples

This morning I finished my last batch of preserves for 2025; that's a wrap. Crab Apple Jelly, yum.

It's so rich looking, deep ruby red, glowing, so satisfying when spread on your favorite bagel or toasted Sourdough bread.

For the last number of years I grabbed crab apples wherever I saw some, usually at Nabuurs Market in Montague. They made lovely jelly, and for anyone who makes jelly, it's a tedious procedure, not for the faint of heart; I love it.

But this year, I cut back somewhat on jam making, after all, it's not exactly a health food. And I was on the fence regarding jelly, so as it happens when you drag your arse, the crab apples don't wait for you. Of course, it's the first week of October, they're gone.

Except next door, at my Uncle Freddie's, where the tree is still bending to the ground with fruit.

So I checked with my Aunt Anne, who was very generous and said pick whatever you want. Several neighbors had already helped themselves and Anne had made her batches of jelly.

So, since of course we all know that the best and biggest apples are always at the top of the tree, and all the low-hanging fruit was already gone, Jamie and I threw the ladder on the truck and popped over with a bucket.

It must have been quite the spectacle.

These two little senior citizens crawling up and down the tree. Filling pockets if we were too far from the bucket, and slowly and surely filling the bucket itself. We were satisfied.

Homeward bound.

When I got home, I dug out my cutting board, sharp knives, Lee Valley jelly bag, etc. The process was under way.

The rest is history.

But as I worked my way through that bucket of apples, thoughts of Freddie came unbidden. He's been gone a while, but for anyone who knew him, not likely forgotten.

They say art imitates life, or life imitates art, I'm not sure which applies here, but while spending time picking crab apples from Freddie's tree, I couldn't help but compare them to the man himself.

Freddie was little, tough, and dare I say...........crabby? Just like a crab apple, although the jelly, after all that work, is the sweetest of all.

He didn't suffer fools, he either liked you or he didn't and he drew clear distinctions between the two. No guesswork was needed as to which category you fell into. He was quite honest about it.

He was one of my father's middle brothers. He held a variety of jobs in his life time, but I think above all he liked tinkering in his workshop, making all manner of things. Small pieces of furniture, clocks, shelves, you name it. I am lucky enough to own one of those bird's eye maple clocks. He used quality wood for all his work. He would pull into my yard once in a while in his little quarter ton truck, with a pair of new denims tucked under his arm. He would say, "Can you shorten these to 28"? Sure, Freddie, for who? We both knew he was a 26" inseam on a good day! Then, when he picked them up, he never came empty handed. A set of maple candle sticks, or a little shelf with a hanging hook, always something useful and well made. His workshop, with a wood burning stove, was something to behold. Oh, the lies told there!!

When we started building our new house, he dropped in frequently to check on Chris and Dale and the crew. He asked me if there was anything I'd like for the house that he could make for me, and right away I knew what I wanted. A porch swing. With that twinkle in his black eyes he asked, "What size do you want? Big enough to sit side by side, or stacked?"

That was pure Freddie.

When I gave up my fabric shop, and Smid was getting ready to re-purpose the building he told me to take whatever shelves or boards or whatever I wanted. So we removed some of the original pine shelving, boards that were 20" wide and 14' long. Unheard of today. But out of those boards Freddie built me a storage cupboard for the basement, and one of my favorite things.........my Adirondack chair that I use all the time. I hope it will last forever.

He was well known for his method of drinking his tea. He wouldn't thank you if you handed him tea in a pottery mug or a Princess House crystal cup. He liked an actual china cup and saucer, the deeper the better. He poured his tea into the saucer and sipped it that way. Not particularly peculiar, but his own way. I saw him do it many times, not sure if I ever handed him a mug..........

I do remember the time he and Anne came down to play cards with his sister Mildred and her husband, who were visiting Momma, so probably 50 years ago. I was a teenager, and as I came in from a date, Momma said, "Nova, will you make a lunch?" I knew there was some ham and tomatoes, so I made a plate of sandwiches, a big pot of tea, and I imagine there was cookies or Date squares or something.

I can see Freddie yet.

He was holding his plate with the sandwich on it, and said, "It's a pretty good Ham sandwich. Too bad there wasn't some Ham in it."

Of course, Freddie would grab the one sandwich that I neglected to add ham to. We all got a good laugh out of that.

He had snapping black eyes, and a great chuckle. I remember as a kid, I noticed he had a big deep scar on his belly and I asked him what it was. He liked going bare belly, which judging by old photos, my father did too.

Freddie's answer to my question? One word.

"Frustration."

Funny the things you remember.

I loved reading as a child, I was obsessed with books, but I had no real place to put them. So Momma coaxed him into making me a little book case. How I loved it! It was small and sturdy and mine and he painted it yellow. And do you know? In later years it became Jaime Lee's book case, and has ended up in her house, after another generation, her kids, used it too. You can't beat that!

The Crab Apple tree itself is immense. It sits proudly at the roadside, at the end of their short driveway. Anne told me once that he picked it up one day at the Co-op and stuck it in the ground. No one ever expects a tree to grow very well in Lower Rollo Bay, and certainly not one planted practically on the pavement, and fully exposed to the fierce winds directly off the water. And an apple tree at that!

But it did. It is a stunner. Their yard is more beautiful because of it. For some reason, their yard was unscathed by that slut Fiona, while in my yard, we lost Every. Single. Tree. Almost just across the road, it was the strangest thing. All the trees in Freddie's yard sustained no damage, they are flourishing.

That bucket three quarters full yielded me 12 jars of delicious jelly to brighten our breakfasts this winter. I also use it as a glaze to finish off a pork tenderloin, or chops. And I know the others who used some of these wild crab apples would be pleased with their batches too. It's worth it.

When Freddie was dying and it was obvious he wouldn't be leaving the Souris Hospital, I went in to say my goodbyes. His sweet little grand-daughter to be Kendra was sitting with him, and left the room to give me some privacy. I stroked his old brown hand and spoke of things like seeing his parents and brothers and sisters again. He was unable to respond of course, but I told him I loved him and bawled all the way to the car.

Hopefully Freddie is grinning down at me, perhaps with his old buddy Grant Cheverie by his side. They looked so much alike that everybody thought they were brothers. His other old friends, Dave Townshend and Mike Kelly and Lornie Doiron and others would have so many stories about their antics, it would fill a book.

Hmmm, is that a challenge?