This Apple Tree

You know what this apple represents?
A wish.
After seven years and a half years of living on this rural property, I wish we'd planted a couple of apples trees every year in the field behind the house. I wish by now we had a small apple orchard.
Instead, we planted two apple trees six years ago alongside the chicken coop when I assumed the pen would remain where it was and we'd expand it to encompass the apple trees once they were big enough to withstand the interest of chickens.
Since then, the outside pen was moved out back and the apple trees aren't growing much. One leans towards the north as a result of our prevailing south wind.
The good news is: This year we have apples! They survived the spring aphids and produced four apples. All on one tree, mind you, but so much better than nothing.

I don't even know if these apples are edible and I'm not going to chase that metaphor. What I am going to say is that they represent another wish: That I was a long-term planner.
In so many areas of my life, I wish I was more skill than enthusiasm; instead, I get enthusiastic about an idea and I just charge ahead with it. Instead of taking the time to think about what I would like -- in this case a whole lot of apples producing apples for us and for the deer -- I simply bought two apple trees on impulse and planted them in the back yard. No planning, just impulse and enthusiasm.
The apple is red,  its sister apples are red, I have no idea if and when to pluck them off the tree, or if I dare sink my teeth into one (okay, you know I will -- too tempting a metaphor awaits -- sweet or sour, what will it be?). For now, I'm enjoying their hopeful presence. I doubt I'm ever going to change, to learn to think and plan, but this suggests to me that one tree finally producing apples is just as satisfying as a whole orchard of apples waiting to be picked.