Bless his heart, my Dad was forever planting fruit trees. But is seems that he rarely got to enjoy the "fruits" of his labor. The last orchard that he planted was up near the end of our street and it was his "fruit cocktail" orchard. It was a mix of cherry, peach, apple, and plum trees. He planted several varieties of each so it truly was a fruit cocktail.
A few years after he planted it,I think I was in my mid to late teens, on a lovely spring day my Mother and I were up there walking through the orchard. I don't remember why we were up there, but it was the first year the trees were big enough that they were finally looking promising. There were blossoms every where, and oddly enough a huge paper wasp nest on one of the branches that was easily knocked down. I remember my Mom and I looking at that wasp nest and then my Mom, who was wearing my Dad's jacket said, "we could burn it, your Dad has some matches in his pocket right here". Realizing that pyromania apparently came from both sides of my family, I happily agreed. Now I don't exactly remember which of us lit that nest, but I do remember the soft little breeze that came up and spread all the flaming pieces over the very dry spring grass.....
This was followed by a lot of yelling and stringing of hoses.... what was really awful was the look of absolute disbelief and disgust by my Dad as he asked us "what were you thinking". Yeah, he didn't get any fruit that year either...
Now you may be wondering why I decided to share this random memory with you...you know if you don't normally read this blog and realize how random my brain is...
Well, today, out in the frozen 20 degree, snow covered tundra, as I was sampling I saw a huge paper wasp nest next to one of my sample stations...and I had a propane torch in my hand. I had to tell myself "think Allison, think...is this a good idea?"
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