ac botanical fruits - starter trees

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Happy with the grafting success this season: on the peach 3 out of 4 grafts took and on the apples even more success. One of this year’s apple grafts (Waltana) actually has fruit growing on it!

The last photo shows one of the apple trees coming into fruit for the first time (Pink Lady).

Jackfruit   (Artocarpus heterophyllus)

Harvested our first jackfruit of the season!  I was always worried that I wouldn’t know when it was ready, but the smell of the fruit was the giveaway - a sweet, fruity aroma filled the back yard.  They are not small fruits, ours weighed in at a whopping 28.6 pounds.  

Got out my tools (bread knife, steak knife, bowls, and gloves), and spread out on the kitchen floor.  It felt like I was cutting a basketball in half.  The outside gave when pushed on, but was not soft or mushy.  The internal part of the stem ran the length of the fruit, and had the texture like a tough mushroom.  The remaining parts of the fruit are a series of rubber band like fibers, the edible pods, and the seeds.

After making a series of cuts, I was able to pry the halves apart.  But by this time the rubber gloves had torn, so I just dug into the latex filled mess with my bare hands.  Once I figured out the pattern in which the pods were arranged, it became a much quicker process.  However, the fibers were dense, and seemed to be trying to protect the pods from my eager fingers.  In all, I filled 2 big freezer bags with fruit: 1 for eating fresh, the other to freeze for use later.

What was left, was a shell of what I had started with; shredded and only a fraction of the weight.  A prime example of why jackfruit is being used as a pulled pork substitute.

Last year, after we ended up with so many seeds, we searched online for a use for them.   They can be cooked in many ways, of which we prefer boiling.   Once done they have the consistency of a potato, with a nutty flavor.

The edible pods are actually petals, hundreds which form internally.  You either love jackfruit or hate it.  The texture is strange - crisp yet chewy.  Said to smell and taste like Juicy Fruit gum.

Total time: 2 hours

Tiny mangoes are forming

Apricot Blossoms!

Work has been brutal lately so I missed the apple-picking season. And every other harvest this month, actually. I thinks it’ll be a few more weeks until I’ll have the time to get back there and by then all that’ll be left to do will be the end of season clean-up. Not really the autumn I expected.

Blood peach and cherry blossoms blended together. There’s a bit of a slope between them, still, the blood peach grew so much. Was planted around 5 years ago, while the cherry around 10. And I remember the day I planted both. I wasn’t serious about either of them, figured it wouldn’t hurt to give them a try and look where we are now. 

lynseygrosfield:

Cherry row in full glory (at Gavnø)

The fair Pomona flourish’d in his reign;
Of all the Virgins of the sylvan train,
None taught the trees a nobler race to bear,
Or more improv’d the vegetable care.
To her the shady grove, the flow'ry field,
The streams and fountains, no delights could yield;
‘Twas all her joy the ripening fruits to tend,
And see the boughs with happy burthens bend.
The hook she bore instead of Cynthia’s spear,
To lop the growth of the luxuriant year,
To decent form the lawless shoots to bring,
And teach th’ obedient branches where to spring.
Now the cleft rind inserted graffs receives,
And yields an offspring more than nature gives;
Now sliding streams the thirsty plants renew,
And feed their fibres with reviving dew.
These cares alone her virgin breast employ,
Averse from Venus and the nuptial joy.
Her private orchards, wall’d on ev'ry side,
To lawless sylvans all access deny’d.
How oft the Satyrs and the wanton Fawns,
Who haunt the forests, or frequent the lawns,
The God whose ensign scares the birds of prey,
And old Silenus, youthful in decay,
Employ’d their wiles, and unavailing care,
To pass the fences, and surprise the fair.
Like these, Vertumnus own’d his faithful flame,
Like these, rejected by the scornful dame.
To gain her sight a thousand forms he wears,
And first a reaper from the field appears,
Sweating he walks, while loads of golden grain
O'ercharge the shoulders of the seeming swain.
Oft o'er his back a crooked scythe is laid,
And wreathes of hay his sun-burnt temples shade:
Oft in his harden’d hand a goad he bears,
Like one who late unyok’d the sweating steers.
Sometimes his pruning-hook corrects the vines,
And the loose stragglers to their ranks confines.
Now gath'ring what the bounteous year allows,
He pulls ripe apples from the bending boughs.
A soldier now, he with his sword appears;
A fisher next, his trembling angle bears;
Each shape he varies, and each art he tries,
On her bright charms to feast his longing eyes.
A female form at last Vertumnus wears,
With all the marks of rev'rend age appears,
His temples thinly spread with silver hairs;
Propp’d on his staff, and stooping as he goes,
A painted mitre shades his furrow’d brows.
The God in this decrepit form array’d,
The gardens enter’d, and the fruit survey’d,
And 'Happy you!’ (he thus address’d the maid)
'Whose charms as far all other nymphs out-shine,
'As other gardens are excell’d by thine!’
Then kiss’d the fair; (his kisses warmer grow
Than such as women on their sex bestow.)
Then plac’d beside her on the flow'ry ground,
Beheld the trees with autumn’s bounty crown’d.
An Elm was near, to whose embraces led,
The curling vine her swelling clusters spread:
He view’d her twining branches with delight,
And prais’d the beauty of the pleasing sight.
'Yet this tall elm, but for his vine’ (he said)
'Had stood neglected, and a barren shade;
And this fair vine, but that her arms surround
Her marry’d elm, had crept along the ground.
Ah beauteous maid, let this example move
Your mind, averse from all the joys of love.
Deign to be lov’d, and ev'ry heart subdue!
What nymph could e'er attract such crowds as you?
Not she whose beauty urg’d the Centaurs’ arms,
Ulysses’ Queen, nor Helen’s fatal charms.
Ev'n now, when silent scorn is all they gain,
A thousand court you, tho’ they court in vain,
A thousand sylvans, demigods, and gods,
That haunt our mountains and our Alban woods.
But if you’ll prosper, mark what I advise,
Whom age, and long experience render wise,
And one whose tender care is far above
All that these lovers ever felt of love,
(Far more than e'er can by yourself be guess’d)
Fix on Vertumnus, and reject the rest.
For his firm faith I dare engage my own;
Scarce to himself, himself is better known.
To distant lands Vertumnus never roves;
Like you contented with his native groves;
Nor at first sight, like most, admires the fair;
For you he lives; and you alone shall share
His last affection, as his early care.
Besides, he’s lovely far above the rest,
With youth immortal, and with beauty blest.
Add, that he varies ev'ry shape with ease,
And tries all forms that may Pomona please.
But what should most excite a mutual flame,
Your rural cares, and pleasures are the same:
To him your orchard’s early fruits are due,
(A pleasing off'ring when 'tis made by you)
He values these; but yet (alas) complains,
That still the best and dearest gift remains.
Not the fair fruit that on yon’ branches glows
With that ripe red th’ autumnal sun bestows;
Nor tasteful herbs that in these gardens rise,
Which the kind soil with milky sap supplies;
You, only you, can move the God’s desire:
Oh crown so constant and so pure a fire!
Let soft compassion touch your gentle mind;
Think, 'tis Vertumnus begs you to be kind!
So may no frost, when early buds appear,
Destroy the promise of the youthful year;
Nor winds, when first your florid orchard blows,
Shake the light blossoms from their blasted boughs!’
This when the various God had urg’d in vain,
He straight assum’d his native form again;
Such, and so bright an aspect now he bears,
As when thro’ clouds th’ emerging sun appears,
And thence exerting his refulgent ray,
Dispels the darkness, and reveals the day.
Force he prepar’d, but check’d the rash design;
For when, appearing in a form divine,
The Nymph surveys him, and beholds the grace
Of charming features, and a youthful face,
In her soft breast consenting passions move,
And the warm maid confess’d a mutual love.

Vertumnus and Pomona: Ovid’s Metamorphoses, book 14 [v.623-771]