On tented kilts and fruit trees...

Just had to throw in a bit more of the magic of springtime amongst the kilts. I'll swear, the nectarine tree wasn't blooming when I went to bed Sunday night, but on Monday morning, there it was, in full bloom and covered with some very busy bees.

It always blooms with vigor and sets on tons of promising fruit, but no matter how much I spray, it rots long before anything is ripe enough to pick. Every single time. I've finally given up on the fruit and just enjoy the blossoms.

When we first moved here, I had visions of planting fruit trees and growing my own peaches and pears and plums and making jam out of them to enjoy all year round. About the only kind of fruit I have any luck with are the ones that were growing here before I came along. The wild blackberries and raspberries do just fine, and I get a few apples and pears, which I mostly give to the horses, but the rest of it is a lost cause. I had some good peaches one year, but by the next spring, the tree was dead. I think it's because my yard is too near a low spot by a creek; too much moisture and shade for fruit. If I'd planted them up on the hill in the pasture, I might have better luck, but the horses would probably eat it all and get sick unless I fenced it off from them, so I never tried that.

It looks like snow beneath this plum tree now, and though it's fun to stand beneath it and watch the petals fall, I only get a few bites of the plums that are good because they're mostly rotten, too.






















So, what do fruit trees and men in kilts have in common, you may ask? Well, like the blossoms in springtime, a tented kilt is full of promise. But until the time comes to harvest the fruit, you never know what you'll get!