I have many wonderful memories from my childhood, some of which will remain with me until the day I die. And one of my most treasured memories of all is of my dad’s love for fruit trees.
Regardless of where we lived, we always had a fruit tree or two growing on our property, and at one point in time dad even had a small orchard growing on a hill behind our house “up in the holler” in Widener Valley, Virginia. He had apple trees, pear trees, peach trees, cherry trees, apricot trees…if it was a fruit tree he probably had it growing somewhere in that little orchard.
Weather permitting, most every morning he would walk among his beloved trees and inspect the blossoms and fruits hanging from the branches. He would carefully pinch off the ones that appeared to be damaged in some way, ensuring that the ones that remained would mature into large, healthy fruits for mom to “can” and for us to enjoy at the dining room table.
Dad’s favorite time of the year was spring, that wonderful season of renewal when the trees he had so lovingly planted and nurtured over the years awoke from their winter slumber and blossomed in all their colorful glory, promising a delightful harvest just a few short months down the road. He tended those blossoms as if they were babies, even going so far as to stay up all night and keep a fire burning in a “smudge-pot” to keep the tender buds on his peach trees from freezing on frosty spring nights. Although his efforts with the fires rarely paid off, he never gave up. After all, those peach blossoms were just as special to dad as the air he breathed.
My dad went to be with the Lord a decade ago, but his enduring love for fruit trees remains just as strong in my treasured memories as they have ever been. This morning as I took Houdini for his first walk, I noticed that the cherry, apple and pear trees that reside in my own back yard were putting on quite a remarkable show of their own. I’m sure dad was looking down from his home above enjoying the show right along with us.
Wonderful Memories