Over the weekend I was sitting in the orchard, chatting with my mom on the phone.
"I'm having a disagreement with Mark* about the peach tree." I tell her.
"Tell me about it." She prompts.
"He keeps telling me to leave it alone, but it has so much fruit emerging, I don't know how the tree can manage it all."
"Oh, hon. You have to remove two-thirds of the fruit or you could damage the tree. I know it's hard to do, all that promise, but you have to. Leave about an inch between fruit so it has room to grow. If you don't you could lose a limb or end up with a ton of misshapen, small fruits."
"So be brutal?" I ask.
And so, with my game face on I plucked at it, feeling horrible about all that promise I had to remove.
I still can't force myself to throw away the culled fruit, though it has no reason to live. It's beautiful, though, in it's little bucket.
But man, just thinking about a globe of warm peach, fresh from the tree, large and sweet and sticky and...
I need to sit down for a moment.
But seriously, learning how not to be so sentimental is a huge part of figuring out how to run a small pseudo-farm. I'm figuring it out, it just might take me a while.
*Later, when I showed Mark what I'd done to the tree he had indicated I should leave alone, he was all, "Yeah, I've been meaning to do that." Merp. Turns out we sometimes suck at communication.