A Harvest Like You

Flavor Finale Pluots-Bird Back 40

I've been waiting for this moment to be brutally honest. I've been waiting for a harvest like you. Because the planting and growing of fruit trees is an exercise in patience. You are not going to be rewarded with a bounty of fresh fruit in the first year nor the second. The third year might give you a little something. But it's that fourth year that fruit growers really look forward too.

Why that fourth year? Because as you've dutifully tended, watered and fertilized your young fruit and citrus trees, you have given them the time they need to establish large and strong root systems below the soil line. Strong roots = strong trees. Strong trees = a bounty of fresh fruit come harvest time.

Sliced Flavor Finale Pluots

But, alas, it doesn't always work this way. Sometimes the fourth year is a bust. The fifth year can be disappointing as well. Sometimes -- it's the third year. It all depends upon the fruit tree in question, where it's planted, how much sunshine it receives and how well you've cared for it. Did disease hit at some point? What about bugs? Bugs love fruit trees just as much as I do.

But there comes that moment in time, where the harvest you've worked and waited for finally arrives. You can't taste it yet. But you can see it forming before your eyes. In my case? The Flavor Finale Pluot tree that I stuck in the ground five years ago finally got around to delivering the type of harvest that I had always dreamed about, but never quite attained.

WHOA! Now that's a harvest to remember!

What is that perfect harvest? It's a harvest that is so large, that one bathes in pluots. There's enough pluots on the tree for fresh eating. There's enough pluots on that tree to make loads and loads of pluot jam and other pluot goodies. Gin drinks made with freshly squeezed pluot juice anyone? Finally -- there's still enough to give away to family, friends and neighbors -- all they can take -- and there's still enough fruit left on the tree to feed a marauding family of mockingbirds.

That, my friends, is a harvest to remember. And it took place this year in the Bird Back 40 in what will be described as an "average" fruit year by many. The weather wasn't quite right for cherries in Northern California this year, which is why the purchase of 1 lb. of cherries cost an arm and a leg in the local supermarket. Some peach varieties -- like the June Pride for example -- set very little fruit. And the three nectarine trees delivered a smattering of fresh nectarines. And don't get me started on the apples and pears -- especially when it comes to a rather nasty bug like fire blight.

Flavor Finale Pluot Tree-Bird Back 40

This wasn't what I had expected. But if you grow fruit for fun, you take the good with the bad. In some years the times are good. In others? Not so much. That's when it's time to drag out the old farmer's lament of "there's always next year."

But -- as you might be able to notice in the photo above left --there's a bit of wood propping up a branch laden with pluots. Know what that means? It was a rather right fine year for pluot production. More than right fine I should say. The dang tree was loaded to the point where some unpropped branches did actually snap under the weight of a terrifically large and luscious pluot crop.

Flavor Finale Pluot Jam-Bird Kitchens

I'll be completely honest with you. I've been privy to pluots ever since I first discovered them at a Sacramento area farmer's market more than a decade ago. I've always been a fan of home-grown plums and not-yet-dried prunes like the Clairac Mammoth de Ente (Improved French Prune). But the pluot offered a tasty feast that I quickly fell in love with. I couldn't buy enough to meet my personal demand. And I knew, fairly early on during the Bird Back 40 landscaping process, that a pluot tree would find its way home. I just wasn't sure which one it would be.

It would be November 19th, 2009 where I would conspire with another Sacramento area gardener and blogger (two of them actually) and place a large order through Bay Laurel Nursery. That order consisted of table grapes, thornless boysenberry and blackberry vines and one Flavor Finale Pluot tree. Why the Flavor Finale? Good question! You think I remember after five years of hitting hard gin like that?

Pluots...

Actually -- I did know that the Flavor Finale had recently won a Dave Wilson Nursery taste test challenge. And the fact that it ripened late -- in September no less -- was another good call. When one chooses to grow fruit trees -- you don't want everything ripening up in August. I would come to find out later that grafting different plum and pluot varieties onto the Flavor Finale was like falling off a log. If there is every such a thing known as the "Franken Fruit Tree" in the Bird Back 40, it's the Flavor Finale Pluot.

My thanks to the wonderful and wacky mind of Floyd Zaiger and his Zaiger Genetics program. Without his wonderful invention called the pluot, the first of which was introduced under the name of Flavor Supreme in 1988, my Flavor Finale harvest to remember would never had taken place.

MY Venus Shows Off THE Venus

MY Venus with THE Venus

So? Guess which is which? Oh great, she's going to KILL me for that line. I kind of like this picture. I really do. I snapped it just the other day. Yes, that raving beauty to the right is MY Venus -- the Wife That Is (and will always be) MY Venus.

I think Facebook friend Dave Jessee, upon seeing this picture, gave it justice when he proceeded to comment the following: "Very nice!.....and the grapes aren't too bad either!"

He doesn't know it yet, but Dave Jessee earned all important "points" for that response. And when it comes to the Wife that is Venus, you can never have too many "points."

Venus Table Grapes

I write this post because MY Venus is holding up something rather important and amazing. I've been waiting for this moment for the better part of four years. No, the moment is not sex. Though, she did make me wait entirely too long for that. Never mind. Wait? What was I writing about again?

Oh yes, table grapes. Forgive me. My mind wandered. It's still wandering...

What MY Venus is holding top right -- and also pictured upper left -- is the Venus Table Grape. After four years of waiting, the Venus vine is finally producing the very first crop of juicy table grapes. This is a rather seminal moment. If you've ever grown seedless table grapes in California, the first rule of thumb is table grapes do not ripen in June.

Venus Table Grapes on the Vine

Most don't ripen in July. By August you have plenty of local table grapes. But JUNE? Yes, June, apparently. We have the evidence. The evidence is tasty. And there's more than one or two tasty table grape clusters hanging on the Venus vine. It's not a whopper 40 lb. harvest mind you, but that's fine. There's always next year.

There is some interesting history here. It's is the Wife who is Venus who bargained for the Venus Table Grape. It's why this rare vine can be found growing in the Bird Back 40. There aren't many of them here. This variety simply isn't grown much here. Why? Good question. Wish I had the answer. It might be the fact that there are so many delicious California selections already grown here, why do we need this one?

Lip-Smacking Venus Table Grapes Ready for Consumption

The Venus Table Grape harkens from the University of Arkansas, where it was developed and marketed as a seedless vine in 1977. How it got from Arkansas to California is a question that I cannot answer. But what I can tell you is this: When I first approached MY Venus to ask permission to plant table grapes in the Bird Back 40 some five or six years ago, she was initially skeptical. "Why grapes," she asked?

"Because I like them," I questioned in a somewhat timidly voice in response. "What varieties do you want," she continued. I handed her a list from Bay Laurel Nursery. And that is why MY Venus spotted THE Venus Table Grape. "As long as you plant the table grape named after me," she proclaimed, "I'm fine with it."

And that, my friends, is how THE Venus found a home in the Back 40 belonging to MY Venus.

Venus Cluster on the Vine

But it doesn't end there. Not even close. This was just the beginning.

The bare root season that preceded the spring season four years ago was a rather wet and miserable season indeed. It was cold. It was clammy. Short and sweet? It sucked. It wasn't anything like last year's bare root season, which offered mostly warm temperatures and sunny skies. Although bare root season is often the best time to plant things like fruit trees and vines, the bare root season that we got four years ago was an exception.

About half of the selections that I ordered from Bay Laurel Nursery died. From vines to trees -- fifty percent is not a good number. One of the first vines to die that year? You guessed it: the Venus Table Grape.

MY Venus was anything but pleased. She has the green thumb in the family. She thought mine had turned black -- as in black with death. I would have to wait another year before a replacement plant arrived from Bay Laurel so I could give it the "old college try" again. By this time the spot I'd set aside for THE Venus and other table grapes had already been taken up with replacement selections. I had to find another spot for it.

Venus Cluster

And so, across the yard it went. That small corner would suffice -- or so I thought. THE Venus didn't do much that first year. It grew about six inches. That ain't much in the world of table grapes. In fact, that's downright pathetic. Some first year vines will send out a stalk that can grow 10-12 feet! Six inches in comparison is fairly depressing.

The second year -- when I could expect the first fruits of my labor -- offered the same results. Oh -- it was a little better. This time THE Venus table grape vine produced TWO new vines. Each one grew about two feet in length and then stopped. Hey! That's better than the first year. But still not as nice as the other vines that were really starting to produce a boatload of table grapes.

What went wrong? I'm not sure. Perhaps the vine just didn't acclimate well to California? Perhaps it wasn't getting enough fertilizer, or perhaps I was under-fertilizing it? Was it the water? Too much? Too little? The weather? Too hot? Not muggy enough? I couldn't understand why eight other vines were growing like champions, while THE Venus, planted just mere feet away, wasn't doing as well.

Venus Vine Growth in 2013: BOOM!

Perhaps all it needed was time. This year? THE Venus sprang to life while the other table grape vines were still getting a winter's slumber. Suddenly, before I knew it, it had grown to the point where it was too late to install any sort of arbor for it. More importantly, it was fruiting for the very first time. And I didn't dare risk the chance of knocking first year fruit loose for arbor installation duties. That would have to wait. In the meantime? THE Venus vine that had grown a total of two and a half feet in the previous two years quickly grew over a six foot high fence and into the neighbor's yard.

MY Venus was pleased. She was even more pleased to taste the very first fruits of our labor. A garden is a labor of love after all. How does THE Venus taste? I'll admit, the brix content is nothing to write home about. It's not the sweetest grape in the world. However, it's got an intense taste just the same. As one writer puts it: "The Venus Table Grape is a cross between the European Vitis vinifera and the North American Vitis labrusca. It has the foxy flavor of a Concord, with some of the lusciousness of a Black Monukka."

I guess that means it's darn good. And wouldn't you know it? MY Venus would have to agree.

A Very Berry Bird Backyard

It's a backyard built for the Birds -- and those thieving robins will thank us with even more thievery in the coming years.

Why?

We've planted more "Bird food" as evidenced by the photo to your immediate right. That my friends -- is a bare root blueberry bush purchased not all that long ago from the endless garden aisles at Home Depot.

This Southern Highbush variety Blueberry known as "Misty" has two other friends planted nearby called "Sharp Blue." And they are the latest entrants into the Backyard of Bird.

Venus and I didn't let the past weekend go to waste. While snow has buried vast areas of the country -- Mother Nature blessed us with two days of abundant sunshine and moderately warm weather.

While it wasn't quite enough to completely dry out the mudpit that is our current backyard status -- it firmed up enough to get some much needed work done. The clock is ticking on bare root season folks. The new fruit and berry additions to the Back 40 go in now -- or you face the prospect of paying top dollar later this spring and summer or -- worse yet -- waiting for Bare Root Season 2011.

The first project? Find a home for the two Black Satin Thornless Blackberries and one Thornless Boysenberry that I ordered through Bay Laurel Nursery earlier this winter. I had the spot picked out -- but I needed to do more than just "dig and plant."

Nope -- it's got to look "the part." I'm snobby that way. Plus -- it's got to be irrigated. I can't be dragging a hose or watering can all over the yard this spring and summer. What does this mean? It means a small profit for the Man's Toy Store that is Home Depot -- lots of screws -- quite a bit of clay mud (a great leveling tool), straps to hold everything together, a big pile of drip tubing and some well amended compost for the bed itself.

I don't want just any old blackberry. I want Monster Berries. Since I've yet to fail with any gardening item planted in a raised bed -- I'm hopeful we'll have a mass of berries to harvest in another year or three. The hard work won't pay off with a harvest this summer, but next year and the year after? Time will tell.

I got hooked on the Black Satin Blackberries after spotting a blackberry bush in the backyard belonging to South Natomas Gardener Extraodinaire Nels Christenson. Did I say "spot?" Attack would be a more appropriate word here. After all -- it did take a crowbar and quite a bit of pressure for Nels to pry me off the thing.

My one memory of that event? Man -- those were some mighty good berries. The bruises from the crowbar have long since faded.

The berry culture has come quite a long way since I grew boysenberries as a kid growing up in Modesto. Back then? Blueberries didn't grow on the West Coast. That was an "East Coast thing," according my mom. Boysenberries did grow well here -- but I soon discovered they had thorns. Not just any thorns either -- but thorns that produced ear piercing screams of pain from a young boy who really didn't know any better.

It didn't take long before I avoided that bush like the plague. Hey, I liked boysenberries -- but nobody told me about those THORNS FROM HELL. I think I eventually took the thing out with a flamethrower. My first experience with the berry business was a bitter and painful disappointment. But -- I digress.

Fast foward from the Sluggish Seventies to the New Century -- and breeders have taken over with advanced versions of your favorite berries -- minus the thorns. Not only that -- but that "Blueberries only do well on the East Coast" argument -- has also gone by the wayside.

Suffice to say -- these are not your "mom's blueberries." The Southern Highbush varieties are a relatively new entry into the blueberry market. Derived from the Northern Highbush varieties that did not produce anywhere outside of the State of Maine (OK -- that's just a little joke) -- the Southern Highbush has been hybridized to where it will perform -- and perform well in Central California climates. Further hybridization has led to more than a handful of different types like "Sharp Blue" and "Misty." But there are many others.

Why are we planting Blueberries? Because we can. Where are we planting them? Underneath the stone fruit trees. What? Who said you can do that? Blame Ken Menzer. The Folsom City Arborist not only told us we could do it during a recent Orchard Management class -- he actually commented it was "beneficial" to both stonefruit and berry bush.

Well -- we have lots of room underneath our two peach trees and two cherry trees...And Ken Menzer not only said we could do it -- he all but reccommended it...

Nuff said. Berry madness has officially taken over...

Venus and I worked as a madcap team during the bare root planting effort this past weekend. I would mix together yards of compost and steer manure fertilizer -- drop them at the base of the fruit trees in question -- and Venus would shape those piles into half moons and plant bare root blueberry bushes and strawberry plant starters.

The last step? Irrigation. The new beds are irrigated. They are planted. The weekend planting effort resulted in the planting of four blueberry bushes -- two strawberry plant starters -- two thornless blackberry bushes -- one thornless boysenberry (thank God) -- a Flavor Finale Pluot tree and yet another Improved Meyer Lemon for our "citrus patch."

Are we done yet? Hardly kids. Scratch another item off the long list of "things to do." But there's still more adventure to come. Bare Root season is just getting started...