Wild, unkempt branches point in every direction; covered in vines, they conceal a ground covered with shrunken, warped and misshapen apples that fill the air with the smell of ferment. This half acre plot was once only a small part of dozens of acres of upright, handsome trees bursting with ripe, crisp apples. The once quiet county road that rambled past has been straightened and now hums with traffic. Coffee shops, bars and upscale apartment sit only a hundred yards from this field and as people drive by they often wonder, "Why isn't this overgrown eyesore made into something more useful, a Walgreens perhaps. After all, everyone needs condoms, headache medicine and sleeping pills."