To the many stated “T” themes of this tiny blog I now add “Tasmania”.
Our little family moved to Hobart three weeks ago and we’re embracing the opportunity of “freshness” in many forms. Fresh air, fresh habits, fresh routines. And thanks to the previous (deceased) occupant of our little house on the side of the hill: fresh fruit.
Sadly, neglect and pests have taken their toll on many of our trees but we have been pleasantly surprised by the quality and size, if not quantity, of apricots that have reached their prime in the past week. It has been a short but very welcome season. I’ve enjoyed creeping about the trees, reaching up to find the choice fruits; the ones blushing as if from shyness, hiding from my grasp, are the most sweet and delicious.
The boys’ only experience of apricots before had been puny, tart monstrosities from a greengrocer and they had thrown them in disgust. Now we play in the sun and the juice dribbles down their chins as they balance a fat apricot half in one hand and a scooter handle in the other.
The apricots are dwindling. Hopefully the fresh habits will last longer.