I wish I could say that our apricot tree provides us with a magnificent crop, but the truth of the matter is that despite the wonderful weather, the couple of pounds of fruit we picked do not really justify the space the tree takes up. By the time that the blue tits have pecked off half the flowers (apparently they find apricot flowers particularly delicious) and the blackbirds have stabbed at the fruit long before it is fully ripe, I’m amazed that we got even that many. Still there were a few fine specimens that we ate fresh and we salvaged some of the damaged fruit and stewed them up. They all tasted wonderful – now I have to decide the tree’s fate – a few delicious fruit in a good year – or more growing space. The head knows what to do, but the heart may be less rational.
