Yesterday we picked the first plum from our tree. Mind you, it was the only one growing on it this year and it’s the first (and only) fruit the tree has ever produced.
We planted a bare root sapling three years ago and the tree is now about 4 feet tall. It was covered in blooms this spring but I didn’t think it was large enough to produce any plums quite yet.
In all honesty, I didn’t even notice the tiny lonely fruit until it began to color—I have had tunnel vision for the single green apple hanging on our ‘Liberty’ apple tree.
I watch that apple every day, making sure my son doesn’t accidently pick it and hoping a squirrel doesn’t find it. But this little plum, I guess it was so far under my radar that I couldn’t even fuss over it.
The variety is ‘Early Laxton,’ and if the flavor of the first little fellow is indicative of all the other little fellows that will (hopefully) show up over the years, we have a real winner!
Last week the fruit began to yellow. Then a few days ago it started to blush a bit and yesterday as my husband was teasing me about how he was going to eat it before I could, he touched it and it dropped from the branch.
The following childish tirade about how I planted the tree and watered it and mulched it and pruned it so therefore I deserved the first fruit not him, must have worked.
He laughed at me and handed it over. But when I took the first bite, I had to share. There is no way to keep something like that to yourself. Had I eaten all of the plum, and then told him how sweet and delicious it was, he never would have believed me. I had to prove it to him so I let him have a bite.
I’m crossing my fingers for twice as many plums next year—so I don’t have to share.