“Sure, I’ll dump it in the composter.” I hadn’t been out there in a while, and judging by the overgrowth between the driveway and the composter box, neither had anyone else. Oh well. I stomped down some weeds, keeping a wary eye on the briars, and so I was almost at the composter before I saw what was next to it:
Quoth 3 year old Mason: “Too heavy!” |
As far as I can guess, a peach pit must have been tossed in (or near) it at some time—the trunk is not two inches from the base of the composter. I was delighted, as you might guess, nearly as much as when we started getting persimmons from the tree near the road.
Wife is all, “They probably won’t get ripe. There’s too much shade.”
“All I’m saying,” I replied, “is give peach a chance!”
Wall to wall and 10 feet tall |
We’re already plotting a transplant operation come winter. There’s a gigantic white pine across the driveway from the front door, that seems to be dying from the top down after a lightning strike, and a couple of trash pines next to that. Those will meet the chainsaw (and become firewood for campsites and other outdoor fires), we’ll pull or dig the stumps out, and hope for the best with the transplanting.
So, on occasion, we do get a pleasant surprise at FAR Manor.
That's so cool. One thing I loved about my parents' old home was the apple and plum trees on the property. I always looked forward to going out and snagging some fresh fruit in the summer.
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