They say it was too cold or windy
to warm the little bees’ wings.

Or the apple flowers blossomed
just before a storm
and their white petals marbled the ground
before they could attract pollinators.

Perhaps it was Colony Collapse,
A frightening name for the frightening idea that
we humans or weather or something mysterious
is killing the bees on which we depend.

The only certainty is that apples are few this year.

Then last night the news came that
Steve Jobs, curator of a technology company
named after the simple fruit,
died.

Jobs did not stop living in the face of cancer,
or economic difficulty, or poor seasons,
but his body still succumbed to the inevitable.

Those of us who love apples and Apples are sad.

We will grieve for a time.
Then we will think with the creativity of Jobs.
We will find ways to grow new fruit,
to protect species known and unknown,
to communicate and connect.

It is the way of the apple.

Pictured is the last of the apples I picked at Charlie’s last season. It is ugly but I will cut into it and savor the gold rush. With no planning, this post is the first I have composed entirely on an apple product, our ipad.