Medlar Flower

Day 218: I fully expected the medlar tree to drop its buds after planting, but almost every tip now has a flower, and I'm hoping there are enough pollinators around to do the job. Technically, I suppose I shouldn't allow it to set fruit for a couple of years, but medlars are more vigorous than better-known fruit trees like apples, pears, peaches and such, so I think I'm simply going to let Nature take her course. Obviously, there won't be enough for a batch of jelly, but I can either freeze the juice to add to next year's crop, or I can eat medlars. Yes, the fruit of this unusual tree is edible, although most people cringe at the thought of eating it when it has turned to mush. It is actually quite tasty, somewhat honeyed, perhaps with notes of apple or rose. The texture is similar to that of persimmon, another oddity which has varieties suitable for the Pacific Northwest.

October Medlar, Nefle De October

Day 206: The French varietal name had me puzzled. For one thing, I couldn't say it even after listening to Google Translate's robot repeating it multiple times, but I was surprised to see that "Nefle" was actually in its dictionary. It means...yep, you guessed it..."medlar." This, therefore, is the "October Medlar," which gives a clue as to when the fruit is fully developed. Note that I say "developed" as opposed to "ready for use," because medlars must have begun to decompose before they are edible. They should be left on the tree until a few hard frosts have occurred, or until they begin to drop naturally. That said, the story behind these two photos is that the friend who has supplied me with medlars in the past will be moving away this summer. In order to "keep medlar love alive" (as another friend put it), I took cuttings from her tree, hoping to propagate it from slips and/or grafts, but obviously, that puts picking medlars pretty far down the road. As a backup, I began searching for an affordable tree, and I wasn't having much luck. Behind the scenes, yet another friend was searching as well, and to my great astonishment, came up with a nursery within reasonable driving distance which had two varieties: Nefle de October and Breda Giant, both as two-year old grafted plants in one-gallon pots, and at half the price of the foot-long bare-root cuttings I'd found on my own. I called the nursery early Saturday morning, and headed out to be on their doorstep when they opened. Nefle de October is a mid-sized fruit, as opposed to Breda Giant. The "giant" varieties tend to be less flavourful, so I picked out a 3.5' tall Nefle which will go in the ground later this week. I keep telling myself that at my age, it's probably pointless to hope for enough fruit for a batch of jelly before I'm too old to make it, but the planting geas comes strong upon me when spring is in the air, a call I must obey.