We gave one of the neighbours a bowl of plums the other day. I thought Julia was being a bit generous with the size of the bowl, as I like plums, but let’s face it, they go bad easily so it’s better to give them away than see them rot.
Today we had a knock on the door and were given a bowl of figs and two sizeable squash. Fair exchange, as they say, is no robbery.
They look a bit green, but they are beautifully ripe – I’ve already had one to check. Some of the plums are perfect and some still a little sharp, but it’s better, I feel to pick at this point. One year we left them a bit late and a lot went brown and mouldy overnight. Some years, because of poor management, the tree fails to produce, but although it’s disappointing it’s not as bad as wasting the crop.
Our cherry tree, as I may have remarked before, was picked clean by birds most years so I simply took it out, which gave more room for the plum and the rhubarb.
Julia tells me that the container grown damson tree is almost ready to pick, though the harvest will only be eight fruits.
The final photograph is plums in a steel bowl. It’s difficult photographing fruit. They may sit still, but there’s not much of interest about them so when I got the chance to use the reflections I gave it a go.
The problem was that as I took pictures I ate plums and by the end of the shoot there were significantly fewer plums in the photographs.
I’ve been thinking about my retirement and if I really need a garden or should buy a flat instead. A flat would mean no garden and less work, but a bungalow would mean space to sit outside and would make me take exercise, which I really should have. And I could plant fruit trees.
There are various proverbs and quotes on this subject, but it is now time for me to plant trees even though I may not live to sit in their shade.