Tyranny of the Harvest
When peaches or apples or plums are ready, they’re ready. No excuses or delays or procrastinating diversions will prevent the fruit from continuing to ripen, and drop or rot if you wait too long. I call it the tyranny of the harvest. Whether I have time or don’t feel well or would simply rather be doing something else, when the time comes, the fruit sets the schedule.
If the peaches are not over-ripe when we harvest them, we have a day or two leeway before they need to be processed. The apples, maybe a few days more - Gravensteins don’t hold well, even in the refrigerator. But the miracle of the transformation from bud to flower to fruit to a decaying mass on the ground or in the basket waits for no human.
If you plant correctly, the vegetables are more forgiving. The tomatoes come on slowly so their season is spread out. The same for squash and would be for the greens if they are harvested properly, a few leaves at a time.
This week the peaches let us know that ripeness waits for no one. Oddly, in spite of the drought, the yield was more abundant than the past few years. Even on the prolific branch that mostly broke off due to the weight, they kept ripening until they started to drop. How insatiable is the drive to reproduce, to continue the species of whatever sort. Our semi-dwarf tree produces delicious freestone fruit that is amazingly easy to peel. None ever make it to the freezer as planned, with peach cobbler, peach pie, and jammy syrup that is brilliant over good vanilla ice cream.
Our apple tree is a marvel. I call it the survivor tree. Decades ago, it stood straight, with strong branches, and even supported a swing for Austin. Then the swing branch broke off, and that was the beginning of the reforming. Soon, the trunk fell over onto the ground, and we were sure that was the end of its productivity. But no, it continued to flower and to produce beautiful apples. Over the years, the entire trunk hollowed out, and each year we wonder whether it will blossom. While the success of each crop depends on the weather and the growing season from year to year, the tree keeps making apples. And this year, in spite of the lack of rain, the yield will be heavier than it has been in several years.
The elephant-heart plums are coming along and will be ready to pick just as last year’s jam runs out. I cooked them with the tart skins on, running it through the food mill at the end, so the syrupy jam is a delightful combination of sweet with a tart finish. Like a fine red wine.
How refreshing to let nature take the lead for a change. Other than noting the tide level and phase of the moon fairly often, my life, our lives, are shaped by technology of all sorts - refrigerators, screens, cars, clocks. Even our calendars and photos are now, for most, digitized. In a climate where the seasons are more subtly different than where I grew up, following the annual ritual of planting, nurturing, harvesting and processing brings me back to the cycles of nature. It helps me remember that we are not in charge, though we have it in our power to do her great harm. We still have a little time to fix at least some of our damage. I just hope we have the collective will before the fruit trees wither from the heat, get sick from the smoky air, and this valley where I live becomes beachfront.
