FRUIT TREES

One of my earliest memories as a child, is of climbing the Pomegranate tree with my sisters. There used to be a large Pomegranate tree below the farmhouse at "Witpoort"; our farm on the African plateau. This tree had a slanting main branch that made easy climbing for little legs and little hands. I loved this Pomegranate tree and the fruit with its red sides looked just like my own little red cheeks. I thought that alone was reason enough for me to love it. It was quite difficult to open the fruit and as children we normally reverted to cracking the fruit open on a stone. The red deliciousness would spill out in streams onto hands and knees and sometimes when a dress got in the way ... a stain!

The nervousness about the stain could never take away anything from the deliciousness of the red Pomegranate juice and even facing mum could not tarnish that moment of sheer delight!

When my father first bought the bushveld farm with the Klipriver running through it, there were a couple of giant orange trees in a small orchard. By the time I came along my father had a well established orchard of about five hundred nectarine trees, about three hundred navel orange trees and another couple of hundred Valencia orange trees.  This orchard produced the sweetest most delicious fruit. The nectarines grew large and puffed up as big as my father's fist. Vendors came to the farm in season from all around the area with big trucks to buy and pick the fruit straight from the trees. We could often hear the big lorries a long way off roaring and revving their big engines up and down the hills as they approached the farmhouse. In Spring when the blossoms appeared on the trees, the fragrance wafted over the valley in a delicious, heavenly fragrance that words simply cannot describe. As a child I thought this must be what it feels like, smells like, is like to be in heaven. 

Now that I have grown old I have a small fruit orchard of my own. My husband and I started planting our little orchard about eight years ago. This summer was the first time we really enjoyed the fruits of our labour. I made jellies and  jams and butters, fruit leathers, dried some apple rings and canned the pears. Now when I look at the kitchen shelf laden with effort, I am reminded again of this one important thing ... the fruit of the Spirit ...goodness, kindness, gentleness, meekness, love ❤️... and I think to myself: "It is not easy to bear fruit. It is hard work and it takes deliberate and constant effort!

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