Weird Fruits

Day 349: It's weird fruit season again! I have been so preoccupied with Merry's recovery that I neglected to check on the Akebia pods to see if they were ripening. A couple of them had gone a bit too far already, and some critter had been at them, but I salvaged more than half a dozen for my personal enjoyment. There are a few more yet to come. Now when I say "personal enjoyment," I have to qualify it by explaining that Akebias are a difficult taste to acquire. For one thing, the edible portion is only a thin layer of...for want of a better word...sliminess which adheres closely to hundreds of fat, hard seeds. To eat an Akebia, you put a spoonful in your mouth, roll it around on your tongue for a bit, then spit the seeds out before swallowing. At first, I found them tasteless. Now that my palate is more educated, the slight sweetness is more apparent. The closest thing I can compare it to is unflavoured rice candy. I actually look forward to the Akebia harvest now, but I have learned not to go overboard when hand-pollinating the vines. A dozen or a dozen and a half is plenty for a season. Forty is definitely overkill.

Staying Within Reasonable Bounds

Day 325: Late last fall, the trellis supporting the white-flowered Akebia vine broke about halfway up the wall. I figured it was as good a time as any to prune back the vine to a reasonable height. The white one is my pollinator. I have been unable to get it to set fruit, although whether the problem lies with it or with the male flowers of the purple vine is uncertain. The purple males produce very little pollen, and it can be assumed that what they do produce is infertile, but in any event, transferring pollen from the white male flowers to the purple females works. That said, the vines of either are very vigorous. Pruning them to stay within reasonable bounds makes harvesting the peculiar fruits of this particular horticultural labour much easier.

Half The Haul

Day 356: Even as I write, I am enjoying one of the most bizarre fruits in my garden. This is but half the haul from my carefully hand-pollinated Five-Leaf Akebia vines. I have mentioned before that one must acquire a taste for this comestible, and in fact it took me several years to train myself in what, precisely, there was to appreciate from a fruit comprised mostly of hard, large seeds. The handful of friends I've tried to instruct in consuming them have not had my patience or persistence in learning to eat something well outside the norm for Western palates. In other words, I couldn't talk anybody into seconds. Too bad! That just means more for me. This year's crop is exceptionally sweet, and I am not quite sure if that's because my taste buds have become sensitized or because I didn't water the vines and simply let them grow unattended through what was a very dry summer. That said, when the pods ripen and split to indicate that they are ready to pick, they seem to do so all at once. I managed to get through about 50 last year without wasting a one, but this year, I was more conservative in the number of flowers I pollinated.

Garden Report

Day 278: My gardening is now under supervision. While I was instructing the Mexican Sour Gherkins in proper climbing techniques and wondering how I was ever going to manage to eat all the Akebia fruits from my hand-pollination successes, he landed on the chicken-wire fence to oversee my work. We engaged in eye contact and a one-sided conversation for several minutes, and then he flew down to the ground inside the Berry Pen. He's been on the back porch several times this morning and cleaned up all the "lazy seeds" (shelled sunflower seeds) I laid out for his breakfast. He's beginning to look less tatty as he sheds the last of his baby feathers and his colour starts to come in, but those stubby tailfeathers make me laugh every time I see him. Poor kid's got no rudder! But he flies straight and true, and if anything can be said for his foraging skills, he knows exactly where the food comes from: me.