Linda Hall: Fruitful life of favourite tree

Linda Hall

Last Thursday night I was busy in the kitchen getting dinner ready when Mr Neat appeared at the open window and said "come outside and look at this".

What's he going to show me this time, I wondered? I'm used to being summoned outdoors to look at things in the garden or strange positions the cat's sleeping in.

I followed him down to the back of the section where he stopped beside the apricot tree. It took me a few seconds to comprehend what I was looking at.

Oh no, the apricot tree had split down the middle with a huge branch leaning against the back fence. We could see that the inside of the tree was rotten - all soft, dry, crumbly.

"It will have to come down," Mr Neat said.

The he walked to the shed and got the handsaw out and started sawing the branches off.

I was so sad. That tree must be more than 50 years old. Since we have lived there we have marked the seasons by it. Rejoicing when the first blossoms appeared heralding spring. Then fighting the birds for the luscious summer fruit.

We've thrown netting over it, tried to outwit the birds by picking the fruit just before we think it's ready.

Often this tactic failed as we waited just one more day for the fruit to get a bit more colour only to discover the birds had beaten us to it by the morning.

I've made apricot jam, frozen apricots to use during winter but best of all enjoyed the sweet juicy bounty from this tree for years.

I swear the apricots taste way better than store bought ones.

In summer and autumn it provided shade.

Mr Neat and I have often sat under it on a humid hot summer night enjoying a beverage or two.

Even its skeletal form of winter looked beautiful as it stood sentry in our backyard.

A couple of years ago we noticed this funny looking growth near the base of the trunk.

My brother-in-law, who worked on orchards for years said "It's probably rotten inside."

We off course took no notice as the tree kept producing fruit. Turns out he was right.

So as I said Mr Neat was sawing away at the branches.

I did suggest he wait until we could get someone with a chainsaw.

"No, I'll just tidy it up."

I went back inside to finish cooking and happened to look out the window just as Mr Neat tackled a particular thick branch.

He was putting so much effort into it he was bent at the knees as he sawed back and forth. Just as I was about to suggest he leave it, the branch fell to the ground - Mr Neat stepped back and saluted it.

Our backyard looks strange without it.

I miss that tree, I know I'm going to miss the fresh apricots next summer.

We do have others but none as big and magnificent as the fallen apricot.

It will do us one more service this winter as we heat our home with it's fallen limbs.

-Linda Hall is assistant editor at Hawke's Bay Today.