I went and looked at a cashew nut tree a few days ago. It did not look like the neat tree you see in Wikipedia.
The leaves were moth-eaten, literally, I expect. More holes than a crochet jumper, and more untidy.
It is on a private housing estate. Many of the trees have a sticker saying prune. At first I thought they must be p r u n u s which is Latin for plum tree. Then I realised they were all different trees. The word meant the estate gardeners or contractors had to prune or cut the tree.
However, the tree trunks and branches often grow at odd angles.
'My' or 'our' cashew nut tree, the one I was shown by a new friend and fellow tree enthusiast, Mr Lau, has 'spring' flowers as well as a very small number of cashew nuts, one bunch on a whole tree.
Figs Which Last Two Years
I wonder whether the cashew is like the fig tree in the garden of a house where I stay in London. The figs hang around from one year to the next. Small green figs, not yet ripe, I am assured, will grow into larger brown soft figs next year.
Like the description of cashews, which have a dangerously acidic 'sap' around the nutty part you want to eat, the little green figs have a nasty white' sap' which has to be boiled out and makes a horrible mess of your saucepan.
Having braved the bothersome figs, we might consider cashew nuts next. But, if we can manage to grow proper soft figs, before the birds grab the crop, we'll be very happy.
Bird Protection Netting
We covered the fig tree with a green netting resembling tennis netting. We bought in a hurry from a London DIY store's garden section. (Probably Homebase.)
I looked at the roll of green netting suspiciously. Were the large holes the right size? The holes looked large enough to let in light?
But could the holes keep birds out? Surely a bird could perch and push with its beak and knock the fruit to the ground? But our family's buyer assured me he had bought the proper stuff, labelled 'bird-proof netting' or 'fruit tree protection from birds' or some such wording.
I sneakily hunted through the bins looking for the label. (I braved risking the accusation - 'You don't trust me! I told you I bought the right netting!')
The netting was tied at one side but soon slipped off. So we re-tied it.
Dear little birds. Cute little birds. "That damned bird's on our fruit tree. It's on the apple tree, Now it's on the fig tree. It's eating out figs. Hey, birdie - get off!"
Not much gets me up from my computer. Running. But a bird eating my fruit can easily turn me into a human scarecrow.
Now I know why a scarecrow is called a scarecrow. Those black crows are twice the size of robins -and must have twice the appetite. Two big black crows to every single, lonely, friendly little robin.
Gangs of greedy crows and munching magpies. And waddling wood pigeons, shutting about the lawn. Where's a cat when you want one?
The big birds grab the fruit and fly onto the top of the conservatory. I hear them patter about, louder and louder, towards me, like ominous elephants, away, back again. Then bonk, bonk, bonk! They tap the fruit to break it by banging it on the roof.
Now I know how much effort goes into harvesting a crop of cashew nuts and figs, I will no longer complain about the price.
Angela Lansbury, travel writer and photographer.
The leaves were moth-eaten, literally, I expect. More holes than a crochet jumper, and more untidy.
It is on a private housing estate. Many of the trees have a sticker saying prune. At first I thought they must be p r u n u s which is Latin for plum tree. Then I realised they were all different trees. The word meant the estate gardeners or contractors had to prune or cut the tree.
However, the tree trunks and branches often grow at odd angles.
'My' or 'our' cashew nut tree, the one I was shown by a new friend and fellow tree enthusiast, Mr Lau, has 'spring' flowers as well as a very small number of cashew nuts, one bunch on a whole tree.
Figs Which Last Two Years
I wonder whether the cashew is like the fig tree in the garden of a house where I stay in London. The figs hang around from one year to the next. Small green figs, not yet ripe, I am assured, will grow into larger brown soft figs next year.
Like the description of cashews, which have a dangerously acidic 'sap' around the nutty part you want to eat, the little green figs have a nasty white' sap' which has to be boiled out and makes a horrible mess of your saucepan.
Having braved the bothersome figs, we might consider cashew nuts next. But, if we can manage to grow proper soft figs, before the birds grab the crop, we'll be very happy.
Bird Protection Netting
We covered the fig tree with a green netting resembling tennis netting. We bought in a hurry from a London DIY store's garden section. (Probably Homebase.)
I looked at the roll of green netting suspiciously. Were the large holes the right size? The holes looked large enough to let in light?
But could the holes keep birds out? Surely a bird could perch and push with its beak and knock the fruit to the ground? But our family's buyer assured me he had bought the proper stuff, labelled 'bird-proof netting' or 'fruit tree protection from birds' or some such wording.
I sneakily hunted through the bins looking for the label. (I braved risking the accusation - 'You don't trust me! I told you I bought the right netting!')
The netting was tied at one side but soon slipped off. So we re-tied it.
Dear little birds. Cute little birds. "That damned bird's on our fruit tree. It's on the apple tree, Now it's on the fig tree. It's eating out figs. Hey, birdie - get off!"
Not much gets me up from my computer. Running. But a bird eating my fruit can easily turn me into a human scarecrow.
Now I know why a scarecrow is called a scarecrow. Those black crows are twice the size of robins -and must have twice the appetite. Two big black crows to every single, lonely, friendly little robin.
Gangs of greedy crows and munching magpies. And waddling wood pigeons, shutting about the lawn. Where's a cat when you want one?
The big birds grab the fruit and fly onto the top of the conservatory. I hear them patter about, louder and louder, towards me, like ominous elephants, away, back again. Then bonk, bonk, bonk! They tap the fruit to break it by banging it on the roof.
Now I know how much effort goes into harvesting a crop of cashew nuts and figs, I will no longer complain about the price.
Angela Lansbury, travel writer and photographer.
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