Learning to be ruthless

emerging peaches and their party hats

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.
"Ruthlessly so."

And so, with my game face on I plucked at it, feeling horrible about all that promise I had to remove.

Growing 3/27/13

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.

On advice from my uber smart mother

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.