This is the tulip that I accidentally knocked off its stem last week. I put it on the kitchen windowsill, and it really brightens the space. The pretty blue dolphin is a box the elder stidkid made me last year.
And a somber note, the nectarine’s leaves were truly shriveled and it just looked sick. So Tom put it out of its misery this past weekend. I am very sad, but rather than have the virus spread to the still-okay peach, I thought it best to cut it now. It’s much too late in the season to try to spray for control, and since the entire tree was involved (last year it was just “most” of the tree) I couldn’t just cut the affected branches or collect the few affected leaves (as I did with the peach last year).
I wrote a poem in its honor today:
The Nectarine
The nectarine is dead,
Only five years old.
I mourn
the loss of fruit
that never came this year – or last –
the leaves that shriveled in the spring
and fell in the summer.
I mourn the pretty pink flowers
that won’t bloom again
the sweet, round,
warm fruit that sunripened and
juices running down the chin,
forgotten
Gone.
The nectarine is down, waiting for final disposition
the trunk for a table leg, the branches
infected all
cannot be used
they must be tossed aside
like used tissues,
waiting for pickup
on garbage day.
The nectarine is dead
and already I have
a different tree to plant, a hope
for blossoms, fruit and shade
in years to come.