Birds, quinces, and a mulberry bush

It’s been a while and we apologise for this but we have been busy. Not in the garden, sadly, because it has been dry and almost impossible to work the soil, so we have put our tree-planting plans on hold till after the first rain.

Meanwhile, things have been happening.

Birds

What you see on this picture is not just what you think you see. Yes, it is a tree. A mimosa tree. But it was, until recently, the site of a massive bird feast.

The mimosa did well this year, apparently. It flowered a lot but since it’s so tall we couldn’t get an accurate idea of just how much it flowered. We only gathered this when the seed pods formed and a bout of wind a couple of weeks ago turned them into a carpet.

At the time, we lamented the fact that the birds won’t be able to get their fill and the seeds would go to waste. Oh, boy, were we wrong. Days later we started hearing noises from the tree. Intense noises.

Rustling, pecking, cracking, fluttering — the tree had turned into a giant birdhouse. Because the many remaining pods on the tree had apparently ripened, if seed pods ripen at all, and were ready for eating. The feast lasted for about two weeks and we are now content in the knowledge we take good care of the birds that choose to live around.

Quinces

Once again, this is not what it looks like. Well, it is actually what it looks like but not just. There are two quince trees on our land. We like quinces to varying degrees — Cris likes to eat them like apples and Irina prefers them roasted with pork. Cat’s not a fan, for now. Because she hasn’t tried quince jelly.

For years, we had to watch in despair how the fruit grew gnarly and ugly, eaten from the inside out by some species of insect. For years we carefully cut out the scarce edible bits and threw away the rest. Until rational thought caught up.

Early this spring, Cris went and bought a special pesticide from the agri pharmacy. He then used it as instructed, while the quinces were still flowering, which is, apparently, the time when said insect lays its eggs in the future fruit. Nature is amazing and all that. Except when it’s just nasty.

Fast-forward seven months and for the first time since we can remember, we are going to have flawless, all-edible quinces. Pesticides are dangerous and evil. Except when they are not.

A mulberry bush

Yes, you guessed it. It’s not what it looks like, although what it looks like is anyone’s guess. What it is, is a mulberry plant that we hesitate to call a bush. It wanted to be a bush because that’s how mulberry plants grow in the absence of tree-shaping interference. It tried.

We were having none of that, however, so Cris promptly trimmed it as part of his broader grass-cutting routine every year. Several years of that and we ended up with this tuft of mulberry that looks deceptively small because someone forgot to add an item for scale. That someone was Irina who recently decided she’s got enough of the mulberry, which happens to be smack on the path between two veggie beds.

The tuft is about 40 cm in diameter and, as can be seen, has some pretty thick roots. Who knew mulberries have great big root systems? Not us. Even after several years ago one mulberry sapling got into an underground pipe and caused serious repairs and a pipe change. Only now are we learning that mulberries are among the most dangerous trees to pop up near a pipe.

We are doing away with the tuft. Or we are trying. Or Irina is trying even though Cris wisely suggested we wait for the first rains to soften the ground. You know how you suddenly have enough and can’t take another moment of whatever it is that you have enough of? That’s exactly what happened.

After two intensive digging sessions, three massive roots have been uncovered, one of them torn by its own weight and tension or the drought, another duly severed after the end of the thickest section and the third barely visible for now. It is an epic battle and there will be updates.

It has been so epic, indeed, that, despite a general unwillingness to involve heavy machinery in the care of our garden, we started talking about it. And that’s why humans are the most dangerous animals on Earth. Because we have heavy machinery.

In other news, we’ve planted a mango seed and it’s still alive. No one in the house has a particular love for mango but it’s the principle of the thing that matters. If it’s got a seed, we’ll plant it and try to grow it.

Ditto these hilarious things Cris got as a gift from a grateful customer and brought home where they caused momentary confusion and much giggling before Google helped us develop instant respect for this amazing plant. Apparently, all parts of a chayote plant are edible and if that doesn’t deserve respect, we don’t know what does. Certainly not mulberries, though.

Yep. We’re planting one of the chaoytes, too. Even if we don’t like the taste of the other one.