My grandfather always had pear trees and worried himself sick about taking care of them and getting as much fruit from them as possible. He wore overalls 99% of his days, lived 'til his 80s, and chain-smoked Camels like no one else I've seen, thankfully.
He would be proud of us--we pruned and fertilized that tree this year and we're hoping to grab some pears before the squirrels do--those damn squirrels are fast! That's a great story, Melissa, I'm sort-of crushing on your grandfather now. *lol*
And I'm getting a view of the garden at last?
Yes, G, this is the view from the playroom window--NE back corner.
I'm longing for fruit trees. Not only am I far north, but I'm up high, so I'm thinking I might be limited to apples. Maybe those small, hard, football shaped plums? I love them.Next spring: maple syrup!
Ooh, nice one.
Ninety years ago, when he was 11, Stanley Kunitz planted a pear tree in his back yard. The people who live there now learned it was his house and asked him to visit. He pointed out the tree, and now, every September, this sweet couple picks all the fruit, wraps it carefully in tissue, and sends it to him. Huge, sweet, golden pears. He gave me one once.
Oh! That's a *good* story, C. Thanks. And don't think I'm not expecting some of your homemade maple syrup next year. &Stuart, I thought you might like this one. ;-)
Post a Comment