Community Orchards and the Shared Fruit Tree

A generation ago, the traditional orchard seemed to be disappearing from the British landscape. Across the country, old apple, pear and plum trees were grubbed up as farmers found that fruit grown on small, scattered sites could not compete on price with imported fruit or with the large commercial plantations, where trees are kept short and planted in tight rows. By some estimates, more than half of the old orchards that existed in the 1950s had been lost by the end of the century, and with them went many local varieties of fruit that had been grown in one area for hundreds of years.

Over the past thirty years, however, a quiet revival has been taking place. In towns and villages, groups of residents have planted orchards on land owned by councils, schools and churches, or have taken over neglected ones that would otherwise have been cleared. These community orchards are not run for profit. Instead, the fruit is shared among volunteers and local residents, given to food banks or pressed into juice at an annual harvest celebration. Some groups charge a small membership fee to cover the cost of tools and insurance, but many rely entirely on grants and donations.

The organisers of these projects give a variety of reasons for their efforts. For some, the main aim is to preserve rare varieties of fruit before they vanish altogether. Volunteers take cuttings from ancient trees in farmyards and hedges and graft them onto new rootstock, producing young trees that are genetically identical to the originals. Others are more interested in the benefits to wildlife. Old orchards, with their mix of long grass, fallen fruit and decaying wood, support a remarkable range of insects, birds and fungi, some of which are now rarely found elsewhere.

The harvest itself can be quite an event. At many orchards, volunteers bring portable presses to turn fallen apples into juice, and some groups make cider or chutney to share. Children who take part in picking days often discover for the first time that apples come in dozens of shapes, colours and flavours, rather than the handful of varieties found in supermarkets. One group in the village of Ashcombe has recorded more than sixty kinds of apple growing within ten miles of its site, several of which had not been described since the nineteenth century.

A third motivation is social. Hannah Merriweather, who helped to found an orchard on the edge of the town of Dovecote twelve years ago, says that the trees were almost an excuse to bring people together. 'When we started, many of us had lived on the same street for years without speaking,' she explains. 'Now we meet every month to prune, mow or pick, and we have people in their eighties working alongside primary school children.' The group's apple day each October attracts several hundred visitors, many of whom bring fruit from their own gardens to be identified by experts.

Running a community orchard is not without its difficulties. Fruit trees take several years to produce a worthwhile crop, and volunteers who were enthusiastic at the planting stage can lose interest long before the first harvest. Young trees need watering in dry summers and protection from deer and rabbits, and a single act of vandalism can undo years of work. Perhaps the greatest challenge, though, is securing the land itself. Groups that do not own their site may find that a lease is not renewed, and several orchards have been lost when councils decided to sell land for development. Rising insurance costs have added to the pressure, and some groups have struggled to find anyone willing to take on the paperwork involved.

Despite these problems, the movement continues to grow. National organisations now offer training in pruning and grafting, and some local councils have begun to include orchards in their plans for new housing estates, recognising that residents value green space that produces something useful. Supporters argue that community orchards show how small groups of volunteers can protect the landscape and build a stronger sense of community at the same time. As Merriweather puts it, 'You plant a tree for people you will never meet. That is a hopeful thing to do.'