the woods are full of them some years.
Wherever there was an old house, old logging camp, almost where there were people on the land for any length of time, there are apple trees. There they stand, and whoever planted them has long since forgotten them, or more likely died, there are often no other traces that anyone was ever there. Deer, bear and other animals relish them, as do foragers, like me. But this isn't one of those years.
About 20 may-be more years ago, "The Old Farmer" and my son planted an apple tree on the edge of my garden, so close in fact the the tree has grown around the wire fence. I never knew what variety of tree it was, I think they dug it up somewhere, over time it has grown quite tall, and branched out, but it has never produced more than a dozen apples in one year. This year the limbs are bent and broken from its wealth of fruit. The fruit is smallish, but it was planted just for us.