Making the hard chop

Making the hard chop

In the old garden I used to have an amazing orchard.  There were about 30 now mature fruit trees.  I had the space, so I just planted what I wanted without too much thought and consideration.  Although I did have a ‘do or die’ philosophy, which is quite self-explanatory.  A tree would be popped in a hole and left to fend for itself.  Mainly because it was at the far end of our 3-acre property, and it was a long way to go when life got busy.  Trees were much cheaper then – $20 wasn’t too much to fork out for a tree.  These days you’ll be lucky to pick up a fruit tree for under $50!

They weren’t completely neglected.  I took care and attention with the planting hole.  What’s that expression – ‘a penny for the plant and a pound for the hole.’  I pruned them each year to do all the right things – to remove the dead, dying, diseased and broken bits.  Then I opened them up for airflow and reduced the height so picking the fruit was easier, although it wasn’t unheard of to find me up a tree picking the ripest fruit from the very top branches.  They also got their sprays – the copper or sulphur to take care of disease and the horticultural oil to take care of pests.  I hung traps to catch the coddling moth.  I did all the right things, but I didn’t fuss over them.  And for the most part they did, although some died.  It turns out citrus don’t like wet feet.

However, the swampy nature of the land, which was drained in 1886 wasn’t all that swampy, except maybe a bit of extra sog in winter, was what allowed my ‘do or die’ philosophy – I didn’t need to irrigate or fuss about with watering the trees.  There was enough moisture in the soil that they took care of themselves – especially in the height of summer.  And I was rewarded with an abundance of fresh fruit that I almost took for granted… until we moved.

Here at the new place (can I still call it new after 6 years?) my fruit tree journey hasn’t gone so well.  I optimistically planted a dozen fruit trees in the first season.  I told myself I’d get around to setting up irrigation, however in the busyness of setting up the entire garden, managing the relocation of the house and subsequent renovations, I didn’t get around to it and there are no surprises when I tell you all the trees died.  The soil is sandy, and water is essential to life, and they just didn’t get it… my bad.

Undeterred, I repeated the process the following season and paid closer attention to the watering and things looked promising.  Unfortunately, the watering and sandy soil wasn’t the only problem.  The main enemy here is the wind and when it comes straight off the ocean (we’re only 100m back) it is full of salt.  Well, that season there were spring storms.  They came one after the other.  It was like standing in waves in a stormy sea for my poor plants and each time they got ‘knocked down’ as they struggled to recover, they got knocked down again.  It turns out young trees can only put out new buds three times in the spring after the previous efforts get burnt off.  After that they give up and the whole tree slowly dies.

I wasn’t in a hurry to replant.  I needed to think about it.  Besides the price of trees had shot up so I couldn’t afford to be so wasteful.  I needed a new strategy.  It took a few years before I attempted to grow fruit again, driven by the desire to have that incredible freshness you can only get when you grow your own.  I was over mealy tasting store-bought offerings that almost cost as much as the tree!

Last winter became the start of a new fruit tree journey.  I was determined to make it work.  I’d given it a lot of thought.  I also knew a lot more about the wind and how it performs in my garden.  I had worked out windbreaks give protection for twice the height times five in distance.  This clearly showed itself halfway down the garden with plants towards the back of the garden getting more beat up in a storm than the plants in the front.  So, we put up a windbreak halfway down the garden and it provided a welcome respite for the poor bedraggled occupants.

The other thing that got me thinking was I had created an open area ‘down the back’ where the pumpkins were supposed to sprawl freely and do their thing.  But it was a little too hot for them there, so they didn’t exactly flourish.  I still got a harvest, but they went crispy before their time.  But… if I put fruit trees there they would be protected from the wind and would in time cool the area for the pumpkins.  It was a win win.  But the space was small, one tree would fit comfortably but I wanted more than one tree.  How could I have more than one tree there?  And then I hit on the answer – I’ll espalier them and then I could fit four trees in there.  We don’t need more than that.

So, we headed off to the nursery and picked out an apple, nectarine, plum and peach – going for self-fertile varieties because I doubt any of my immediate neighbours are crazy enough to grow fruit trees in this hostile environment.  They were planted with care in holes wider than they were deep.  The sand is surprisingly more fertile than I initially expected, so I didn’t add any amendments to the hole.  Once the tree was snuggly planted in the soil I mixed Blood and Bone and slow-release Dynamic Lifter into compost and mulched this around the base of each tree, so the nutrients slowly worked their way into the soil as the roots reached out into the native soil.  And the trees grew well – except the apple which got wrecked by a possum and I may need to replace it.

But this week, in late summer, as most of the trees are stone fruit and need pruning in the summer to avoid Silverleaf disease, I bravely removed most of the lush growth that had supported the trees through their establishing months.  Given the cost of the trees it was hard to just lop away most of the luscious growth.  The remaining branches were invited to grow along the wires I had provided for them to create the espalier structure.  So far so good, but time will tell if we get fruit in future seasons.  I certainly hope so.

Come again soon – it is almost time to say goodbye to summer and I’m not sure I’m ready to.

Sarah the Gardener  : o)