Primeval and Other Times

THE TIME OF THE ORCHARD

The orchard has two times that are interwoven, succeeding each other year after year. These are the time of the apple tree and the time of the pear tree.

In March, when the ground becomes warm, the orchard begins to vibrate and digs its claw-like, underground paws into the earth’s flesh. The trees suck the earth like puppies, and their trunks become warmer.

In the year of the apple, the trees draw from the earth the sour waters of underground rivers that have the power of change and motion. These waters contain the need to push, to grow and spread.

The year of the pear is completely different. The time of the pear trees involves sucking sweet juices from the minerals, as inside the leaves they gently and gradually merge with the rays of the sun. The trees come to a stop in their growing and relish the sweetness of sheer existence, without moving, without developing. Then the orchard seems unchanging.

In the year of the apple tree the flowers bloom briefly, but most beautifully. Often the frost beheads them or violent winds shake them off. There are lots of fruits, but they are small and not very impressive. Seeds roam far from the place of their birth: dandelion clocks cross the stream, grasses fly over the forest to other meadows, and sometimes the wind even carries them across the sea. Animal litters are weak and not large, but those that survive the first few days grow into healthy, clever specimens. Foxes born during apple-tree time do not hesitate to approach henhouses, and the same is true of falcons and martens. Cats kill mice not because they are hungry, but for the sake of killing, aphids attack people’s gardens and butterflies assume the brightest colours on their wings. Apple-tree summers give birth to new ideas. People tread new paths. They fell forests and plant young trees. They build weirs on rivers and buy land. They dig the foundations for new houses. They think about journeys. Men betray their women, and women their men. Children suddenly become adult and leave to lead their own lives. People cannot sleep. They drink too much. They take important decisions and start doing whatever they have not done until now. New ideologies arise. Governments change. Stock markets are unstable, and from one day to the next you can become a millionaire or lose everything. Revolutions break out that change regimes. People daydream, and confuse their dreams with what they regard as reality.

In a pear-tree year nothing new happens. Things that have already begun continue. Things that do not yet exist gather their strength in non-existence. Plants strengthen their roots and trunks, and do not soar upwards. Flowers bloom slowly and idly, until they are large. There are not many roses on a rose bush, but each of them is as big as a human fist. So are the fruits in the time of the pear tree – sweet and fragrant. The seeds fall where they grew, and instantly put down strong roots. The ears of corn are fat and heavy. If it weren’t for man, the weight of the seeds would crush them to the ground. Animals and people grow a layer of fat, because the barns are bursting with crops. Mothers give birth to big babies, and twins are born more often than usual. Animals, too, have large litters, and so much milk in their teats that they are able to feed their young. People think about building houses, or even entire cities. They draw plans and measure the ground, but they do not get down to work. The banks show enormous profits, and the warehouses of large factories are full of products. Governments grow stronger. People daydream, and finally notice that each of their dreams is coming true – even once it is already too late.