Bee watch at the Greengage Tree

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.