A richly described Victorian painting of a harvest scene is full of innocent joy, shadowed by what history would soon bring to the fields of northern France
Walter Osborne: Apple Gathering, Quimperlé
Weep for the green orchards of northern France
before the two world wars, their apple-rich largesse
bound ripely to the sap and to the sun
in fertile villages. At Quimperlé,
two girls are harvesting a tree bent sideways
by the weight of apples, one wielding a long stick
to bring them to earth, the other in her wake,
bending to gather. Just now their backs are turned
to the blockish bell-tower on the hill.
They seem composed in their rough working clothes,
and are aiming to fill that barrow with a fresh
cargo of apples. The promise of baking and brewing
is a scent in the air, and the prospect of rest
after, say, one more tree, is what keeps them going.
Each of them will wipe an apple on her dress
and close her eyes and eat it slowly
until the ringing of the angelus bell
sets them moving to the next tree. Now their work has a taste,
now they can taste the work of the orchard
and will soon, for all we know, begin to sing
as their arms resume stretching.
Weep for the green orchards of northern France
before the two world wars …
