Karl F. Stewart
Video

The Death of an Apple Tree

00:03:16

Single channel video

Alain ...

The seasons of a human being's life morphs through its phases. And as in all cycles, there comes a time to end the journey.

The life of an agriculteur can be grueling. Early to rise and late to bed. For those who work the land the elements rain or shine on their soul indifferent to the farmer's mood.

And when the words spoken say enough of this work, a man looks over the land he has toiled on for so many years. The visions of all his efforts resting there quietly in the soil, through the trees.

 

 

The distance between the physical and mental ability to continue and the love for your labor can be enormous. The soul longs to be part of your creation, but the body is tired.

After years of weathering the transformations and battling bureaucracy you quit. Or as we so ambiguously put it in English, you retire.

In France in order for an agriculteur to receive his or her pension, the individual has to prove that the land once worked is now of no profit to the farmer.

There are two ways of doing such. Either someone takes over your activities, or you have to show the land is not producing.

Our agriculteur in question produced apples. His orchard was magnificent. Long years of love created a virtual forest.

The apple trese. No one, though, was willing to step forward and continue pruning, picking, storing and selling the fruits our protagonists were bearing. Hence, the last resort for the proof of non productivity was elimination.

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