Written By Clara Paulson

A silver bell chimes as customers and an icy breeze slip through Fairmount Orchard’s wooden door. Pink and orange checkered curtains, a life-size scarecrow, and shelves lined with crimson, chartreuse, and golden apples greet them.
Adults pull off gloves to inspect jars of apple butter and burlap bags filled with spices. Children plead for one more gallon of cider, and their parents place chosen treats on the counter beside a sign that reads, “Farewell Season! Final Day: November 30—Thanks for all the memories.” As December draws near, so does the end of an era. On November 30, 2025, Signal Mountain, Tennessee’s beloved Fairmount Orchard, officially closes its doors.
Jennifer Tamble, now in her third season at Fairmount, rings up the shop’s final purchases, sending each customer off with a fresh treat and holiday wishes. Like many of her customers, she grew up visiting the orchard.
“Coming to Fairmount was always a tradition for Halloween, for Thanksgiving, for everything,” Tamble said, “As a kid, I wanted to work here because we visited every time it opened. I even came in elementary school. All the schools on the mountain used to take field trips here to learn about apples and cider making.”
For many Signal Mountain locals, the business is a fall staple. The property has functioned as an orchard for 97 years, 54 of which were in the care of the Roberts family. Current owner Chris Roberts has worked at and cared for Fairmount since he was only ten-years-old.
In 1971, his parents, Barton and Wanda Roberts, bought the property as a retirement dream. The business actually began as a small fruit stand off the side of Taft Highway. Customers would walk up to the booth to get their apples or cider. It wasn’t long before the Roberts needed to expand, so they transformed the garage into what locals know as Fairmount today. Mrs. Roberts was an oil painter and decorated the new building with her artwork to give it a sense of hominess. Many mountain residents still have her paintings. In 1991, Chris Roberts took over from his father and has run the business since. After 54 years, he is ready to retire.

As people read the sign on the counter, there are whispers of “Is the orchard really closing? For the season or forever?” With each purchase, the shelves thin out, gradually confirming the truth.
“It has always been a place to gather,” Tamble said. “I’ll have customers run into someone they haven’t seen in months or years. This mountain is much bigger than people realize, and a lot of people don’t cross paths, but this seems to be the place where they always do. There’s nothing of its kind close to this community, or even downtown Chattanooga. Change is inevitable, but it’s still heartbreaking and takes some adjusting.

The locals’ heavy hearts following news of the orchard’s closing prove Fairmount is more than a quaint, remodeled garage along Taft Highway. It is a nostalgic, community hub.
The bell jingles as the last customers leave, carrying fall traditions from the dark wood doors to their car. This season marks their last cider, pie, or bite from those particular apples, lending the moment a deeper sweetness and nostalgia. The orchard may be transitory, but the memories Fairmount has fostered for 97 years endure.
In its last season, Tamble worked toward a simple goal: “I loved interacting with the customers, getting to see people I haven’t seen in a long time, and teaching them something new about apples. That’s really the biggest thing, and giving those customers the same feeling I had as a kid.”
Meet the Storyteller

Clara Paulson is a junior Communication major attending the University of Tennessee at Chattanooga with minors in Brock Scholars and Creative Writing. Paulson is a writer and photographer who aims to capture the charm of Chattanooga’s culture. She has experience as an assistant university photographer, photo editor for the University Echo, and published author in the Sequoya Review. When she’s not behind a camera, you’ll find her hiking, paddle boarding, and rafting the Ocoee. After graduation, her goal is to continue writing—whether it’s with ink or light—the unheard stories of Chattanooga and beyond. If you want her to tell your story, you can reach out to her at tnq894@mocs.utc.edu.





