A little greengage blossom and not a bee in sight |
My mother has an unrequited
love. It does give back, but only in the
form of plums. If she was made to choose
between it and I, I couldn’t be 100% sure she would actually choose me. She came by this love in a relic of the
British highstreet: good old Woolworths.
Excellent for pick and mix and tucked away at the back of our local one,
cheap plants. She thought she was
getting an excellently priced but regular plum tree, which she was nonetheless
fond of, but as it eventually produced fruit it became apparent that this was no
ordinary plum. As its’ fruits formed and
ripened, they resolutely refused to change colour, stubbornly remaining
green. Turns out it was actually a
mislabelled and much more sought after greengage.
No other plant is so highly
prized by her in our garden, so much so she has to be berated into pruning it
every year and even then it now stands at least ten feet tall and somebody has
to be sent up a ladder come picking time.
My brother cycled to our house last summer and ironically chained his
beloved bike to my mother’s beloved tree.
I couldn’t help thinking that if a thief had cut through the tree to
take the bike, I genuinely wouldn’t know who would have been more devastated.
I phoned her from work recently
and the tree came up in conversation.
She was concerned she hadn’t seen any bees on her tree and I was left
thinking how the hell does she even know this?!
Has she spent all day stationed by it on bee watch! I feel my mother may need to get out
more. Im not concerned, no doubt we will
be eating greengages for breakfast, lunch and dinner and spending the rest of
the time in the loo again this year. I
say ‘we’ but I don’t actually like them, shame.
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