This is a story of renewal, perfect for the Spring.
This tree you see endowed with so many glorious orange orbs was, not so long ago, a barren and unhappy thing. She was planted in the area of my yard most welcoming to citrus. By that I mean it was hot, sunny most of the day, and protected from the wind. It was also right inside the front gate, so every day, many times, I would walk by my little growing mandarin orange tree I entreat it to, “Please grow.” I put her on the drip system, I gave her citrus food, good earth, and I infused her with doses of iron and fish emulsion. You know, I paid attention to her. And she responded. Grew into a fine-looking specimen. But she never, ever set any fruit. Year after year, strong green growth, zero fruit.
The value in a fruit tree is … um … fruit. Without fruit, it’s just a nice shrub, and in my little patch of warm, sunny yard, if a fruit tree was simply going to be a tree, then she had to make room for someone else who would provide. But she was a healthy tree, and I’m a pushover when it comes to ending the life of a sturdy grower. So we banished her to the backyard, in an afternoon-only sunny spot where the earth hadn’t been amended with all manner of lovely soil but rather had a clay-like consistency. We gave her a nice hole twice as wide as deep, put her on the drip, and said a prayer.
She proceeded to drop each and every leaf, as if she was hot and needed to expose her branches to the fresh air. Or she didn’t care anymore. In the short order of two weeks, she went from a green, robust citrus bush to a craggy looking old lady. The move killed her spirit. Feeling like I had failed her, I took some consolation in knowing that I hadn’t simply ripped her out by the roots and dumped her unceremoniously into the compost pile. We had at least given her a second chance.
But when, after a rain fall, I took a walk out the back door towards the compost pile, I noticed that my naked mandarin orange tree was adorned with delicate white flower buds. Somehow, after jettisoning every bit of exterior life, this cagey tree was going through a re-birth. And not just a few fruits on the maiden voyage. Oh no, she was covered in flowers that I knew, weather and wind and birds willing, would turn someday into precious fruit.
So you see. Sometimes we just need to find the right patch of dirt for us to fully flower. And it might not be the patch of dirt everyone thinks is perfect for our growth. Yet if it feeds us, then all is right with the world.