Down the cellar, beneath the wooden steps and shuttered to keep out any light, shelves filled up each summer through the autumn harvest.

Fat blueberries in jams and thick pastes good for pies; raspberries and blackberries put up as sauce and wine; glowing crescents of peaches; apple butter golden and sweet; all these besides the beans and tomatoes and jars of relishes and pickles.

In the last few years of Addie's life there was more fruit below the ground than grew on the scraggly old and neglected trees.