Heaven is...

Tree Ripened Santa Rosa Plum Ready for Picking

Heaven is....Life with the wife that is Venus.

Heaven is...Happiness.

Heaven is...Santa Rosa Plum season.

I must admit -- I've been waiting for this. Not a year or two mind you -- but a lifetime. You don't remember the simple joys of life until they are gone forever -- and you wish you could have them back -- just for a moment or two.

But you can't. The simple joys of life are memories of a simpler time. And unless you've cracked the H.G. Wells code for The Time machine, you can't visit them again.

But I'm here to tell you boys and girls -- that you can come close. Close indeed. I've been there. I was there just tonight.

Santa Rosa Plum Tree-Bird Compound

My memories of Heaven are fresh plum season in mid-1970's Modesto -- and a gigantic, towering, fifty foot tall plum tree across the street from 309 Ribier Avenue. I don't know how it got there. It was just "there" by the time I noticed it. And, you could always count on said tree to deliver a wallop of a harvest.

Heaven was climbing ten-to-15 feet up in those fruit laden branches -- finding the most comfortable spot to lean on and enjoying plum after plum after plum until my fingernails and hands were stained a dark purple. I never did find out what kind of plums they were. All I can tell you is that they were delicious -- and they were bountiful.

That plum tree offered up many a weekend meal or after-school snack during fresh fruit season. The neighbors didn't mind much. In fact, they rather welcomed the sight of me high up in that tree. Because -- soon -- with the onset of hotter days -- the thousands of pieces of leftover fruit in that tree would grow soft.

Santa Rosa Plums-4th Year Crop

And then -- PLOP! Plop on the ground they went. Plop on the neighbor's freshly poured concrete driveway they went, irritating a one Olin Johnson. If the plums weren't plopping on Olin's freshly poured concrete driveway -- the birds that raided that plum tree with regularity -- were leaving something else behind.

Plums make you regular -- much to Olin's chagrin as I recall.

I've never forgotten feasting on those tree-ripened plums all those years ago. I've also never had the opportunity to run across another plum tree like that in the 35-plus years since those special days. I was somewhat distressed to see that the plum tree that so offended Olin Johnson and his freshly poured concrete driveway had been cut down during my last visit back to the old neighborhood.

Of course -- Olin was long gone by this time. There wasn't even a stump to serve as a reminder that a magical plum tree rested there. It was a plum tree that just didn't feed Bill Bird -- but entire neighborhood of young boys just like Bill Bird and -- well -- generations of other "birds."

4th Year Crop-Lush With Plums

It's safe to say that I have waited to repeat this moment since Venus and I first planted our Santa Rosa plum tree four years ago in our North Natomas compound. She would come to discover that it would be the first of many such trees -- but the Santa Rosa was the first.

Although my hope is that the Santa Rosa would be similar to the plums I snacked on decades ago on Ribier Avenue, I realized after the first small crop that it wasn't. The tree delivered another small crop during its second year -- and last year's harvest of 30-to-50 plums was enough to warrant this joyous blog posting.

Ripe for the Picking -- and Snacking!

But it still wasn't what I wanted. What I yearned for is a return to the days when I was a 12-year old boy with enough boundless energy to leap into plum trees with a single bound, hang upside down on a sturdy branch, and snack away until my stomach couldn't hold another bite of plum.

I suppose I'm here to tell you in an excited way that I reached that special nirvana tonight. No, I did not climb said tree. Bill Bird is a tad heavier now than he was 35 years ago -- just a tad. And that "boundless" energy that 12-year old boys have vanishes somewhere -- I'm not really sure as to where.

But that didn't stop me from reaching up to feed on a four year old Santa Rosa plum crop until I reached that special fruit "nirvana." It arrives when you've had just enough. You've eaten your fill. You cannot think of eating another. And yet -- when that hunger returns tomorrow or the next day? There is more than enough to meet said desire.

Ultimate Digging Machine Tenderizing Kitten

As I was feeding the Ultimate Digging Machine, Bandi the Mutt, her share of Santa Rosa plums, it struck me. I had indeed had my fill. I had eaten enough to the point where I was actually sharing plums with the dog we brought home from Oregon from last summer.

It was at that point that Nirvana struck. Had I fed plums to Bon-Bon the family mutt in 1970's Modesto? The faithful family dog that helped raise a family of four children, including the youngest? A boy who loved to climb the nearest fruit trees and eat his fill, while tossing scraps to the ground?

For an instant -- just an instant -- I found myself there. The moment I'd waited to repeat for decades came and went with a flash. The smile had I had on my face as I walked back inside was hard to describe, and also brought questions from the wife that is Venus.

And she's still not quite sure why I'm not interested in having dinner tonight.

Confessions of a North Natomas Cherry Grower

Royal Ranier Cherries-3rd Year Crop

Somewhere -- a bird is laughing.

And plotting...

See -- I know this bird. I know this bird intimately. I know this bird well enough to know that his name isn't Bill -- nor is it Venus. But this bird and I do have something in common.

We both love Royal Ranier Cherries. And we'll both go through extraordinary measures to get our dirty little claws on them.

This is one smart bird.

Have you ever grown cherries in your backyard? This is a first for me. Oh -- I've RAIDED cherry trees in other backyards sure enough. Childhood memories from Ribier Avenue in Modesto are ripe with memories of monster trees loaded with thousands of fat, ripe, red cherries.

Royal Ranier Cherries-Two Weeks From Harvest

It was a child's delight "back in the day" to hoist myself halfway up one of those monster trees -- make myself comfortable on a couple of branches and eat cherries to the point where I was litterally sick of them. At that point I would jump down -- walk home -- only to return the very next day and repeat the same steps I had taken the day before.

There were always enough cherries.

I bring up this memory because it seems as if the timeline for actually growing cherries works a little like this:

Year 1: Plant cherry tree

Year 2: Cherry produces 1st small crop

Year 20: Finally get to enjoy your first cherry because it's the one cherry that hasn't been consumed by marauding neighborhood birds.

You see -- I'm a battle with the birds here in North Natomas. It's the Bird against the birds. The prize is a 3rd year crop of lip-smacking Royal Ranier Cherries. And the Bird is losing -- miserably.

The Royal Ranier Cherry Tree-Third Year

The wife that is Venus and I first learned that we would be going to battle every May after we saw a small 2nd year crop of Royal Ranier Cherries vanish overnight. We had just each tasted our first cherry from that 2nd year tree. We both agreed -- as good as those cherries were -- they needed another "day or two" of seasoning in the sunshine.

The birds didn't wait for seasoning. The next day our small crop was gone. I actually watched with chagrin as a robin popped into the tree -- and popped out with the final cherry -- stem and all. The look he gave me that particular day said it all. You can describe it with one word: SUCKER!!!

I had never done battle with the birds over cherry crops all those years ago in Modesto because the trees were so large and lush -- they produced more than enough cherries for an army of boys and birds to consume. It didn't matter if they got the crop at the top. There was more than enough on the lower branches to enjoy.

But that was a 30-year old tree. 30-year old cherry trees produce massively larger crops than three year old cherry trees do. And I'm not about to wait another 27-years to enjoy my first Royal Ranier Cherry. Neither is Venus. We'll both be using walkers by then.

A way to get rid of marauding birds?

So what is an enterprising North Natomas cherry tree grower to do then? I am reminded of a gorgeous young lady that I met one day last spring at a Sacramento Certified Farmer's market. This eye-catching, blue-eyed,  blonde cherry temptress was pushing a huge and wide variety of cherries freshly harvested from the family farm somewhere near Stockton.

When I asked this young lady for advice regarding marauding birds and cherry crops, those blue eyes flashed as she related a now famous line from Nazi Major Toht from a memorable bar fight scene in Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark: "Shoot Zem, Shoot Zem All."

Nice advice, but somehow I don't think the Bird neighbors surrounding the Back 40 ranch would appreciate it much if I started blazing away with a shotgun. I'm already pushing the envelope with the Hello Kitty colony of bees. Besides, shotguns and suburbs don't make for a good mix.

Scare Tape on the Royal Ranier Cherry Tree

So what is a frustrated cherry grower to do then? As this photo clearly illustrates -- I took the advice of a Kern County gardener and blogger by the name of Maybelline. "Scare tape," she advised. "Scare tape will keep them away." Sure enough -- I found said Scare Tape at Peaceful Valley Farm Supply in Nevada City -- and thought my problem to be solved.

Just one teensy-eeensy problem. Scare tape might "scare" the birds in Kern County. But here in Sacramento? Bird laugh at scare tape. In fact, they love it. They land right next to it -- and look at without nary a hint of alarm. In fact -- some of that "scare tape" has found it's way into bird nests around the neighborhood.

How do I know this? When you see a bird's next glistening in the sun? You just know. Scare tape that I dutifully tied to cherry and plum trees plus a thornless boysenberry bush that is now in tatters from some bird shredding it into pieces is yet another good sign.

Precious the Cat: Not a fan of Scare Tape

The scare tape did work on one creature. It scared the bird-killer cat of mine into the next yard. That was about the only defense I had against marauding birds anyway, and now Precious the Cat has flown the coop.

The next line of defense? The next line of defense is netting that I purchased out of frustration last year when marauding birds helped themselves to half of the June Pride peach crop that year. Now -- I'm not THAT stingy. I don't mind sharing a fresh fruit meal with my feathered friends. But when the feathered friends started helping themselves to EVERY peach on the June Pride tree? That meant war.

I must admit -- the netting did work wonders when I placed it on the O'Henry Peach tree later that summer. The wife and I enjoyed a late season harvest of beautiful -- un-bird molested -- O'Henry peaches. But I didn't like the effect the netting had on the tree itself. Branches were bent in a downward motion -- and never did straighten out. The tree still doesn't look quite right from a late summer netting -- and this year's terrible bout of peach leaf curl isn't helping matters much either.

Still -- the scare tape was doing everything BUT scare the marauding birds eyeing the Royal Ranier Cherry crop -- so on the netting went this weekend.

Bird after the Bird Cherry crop!

The response has been less than desired. Despite my efforts to tie up every loose nook and cranny -- one bird in particular continues to find his way inside. In fact -- he takes great delight in chattering how much of a fool I am. If he isn't locating holes in the netting at the bottom of the tree -- he's ripping this hole that I tied off with string in the top.

I've caught this one particular bird inside this netting three times today alone. Each time I dutifully locate and close off the hole I've left open -- or the hole he's managed to create. But somehow I think I'm fighting a losing battle.

I've had a weekend to battle this bird. Tomorrow? It's back to work and back to the workplace.

Somewhere a bird is waiting...

And laughing...