Formerly Crabby CrabApples

Blooming Out

When we moved in here, one of the first things I noticed were the dead-looking bushes running along the unattractive fence line to the north of our front yard.  Our original plan was to remove them and put some evergreen vines of some kind on the fence, in order to block the view of our neighbor's garage.  But on a random trip to the nursery, a woman who works there and is familiar with our neighborhood told me the bushes were actually crabapple trees, which bloom in a profusion of pink and white blossoms in spring and even produce edible fruit.  She said they'd once looked glorious, but had, in recent years, become completely neglected.  But she said she guessed they were probably still alive.

So I decided to give them a reprieve for a year and see what I could do with them.  I'm a softie that way, I tend to see almost any plant as valuable for something (except possibly bermuda grass and star thistle), and am therefore apt to try and work with it, as is, instead of ripping it out and planting something else.

So I first pruned them back hard, so they once again assumed the form of trees and not bushes.  I trimmed off all the dead wood, and laid down a thick layer of chicken waste around their trunks to fertilize them slowly, over time.  The next step was to add a couple more drip irrigators on each tree, as they were clearly starved for water, hence their ugly appearance.

The staff of life... 4 GPH drip lines and chicken shit

This is proof of my tendency to turn into a softie and save anything valuable that at least makes a stab at staying alive.  I looked at those trees and felt sympathy for them...trying to bloom, trying to grow, yet hindered by the fact that they were never given enough water or food.  

And this spring, they bloomed, beautifully, although a couple are still struggling a bit.  I am still planning on adding some vines to the fence line, but the trees will absolutely stay if they can make it through the summer, which I believe they all will, even the struggling ones.

This homestead life is often filled with failures and the lessons failure provides, but sometimes, successes happen too, and instead of firewood, you get productive, well-watered, and (at least in my imagination) grateful, happy trees, swaying gently and colorfully on spring's first breezes.

Happy tree