005 - Apricot Trees (1 - Brentwood)

The Last Apricot Tree Under the Mountain

Apricot blossoms can come on as soon as the end of January with delicate white leaves and a distinctive red center. Right before they pop, the blossoms look like little rain drops. The trees are small with a dark rough and corrugated bark. When the leaves come a few months later, they’re round, about the size of a sand dollar and a darker green. The fruit starts out a light green but turns a luminous orange, especially against the color of the leaves even before they’re ripe. When sunburned, they carry a little red blush. When the fruit is ripe, they bruise easily and get squishy quickly. You think you have time, but the window closes quicker than you expect, even with experience.

My brothers and I like them when they’re still green and hard, when they make the perfect missiles for target practice and all-out war. I can’t decide if I’d rather get hit with a BB gun or a hard green apricot whipped at you with real intention.

For most of the life of our orchard, we leased the trees to our neighbor who cared for and took them to market for his living, so the rules were very strict. You could only battle with unripe fruit that you found on the ground. The best time for this was after the thinning when skilled men used bamboo sticks to knock what seemed to be half the fruit on the ground.

If you were cornered, it was impossible not to grab some hard kelly colored marbles off the tree to save yourself. Later, when the fruit is ripe, there is nothing more satisfying than settling scores with brothers or friends with a nice, sloppy, orange splat.

I never liked eating apricots. Something about the texture gives me the willies. I have to catch them right after they are still tart and very firm. Shortly after that, forget it.

There is an exception. When they get pretty ripe and ready to fall off the tree (an amazing orange carpet if a tree is not picked and everything drops), they can be cut and dried. Now we’re talking. I cannot resist slab-dried apricots. Even better, frozen after drying in the hot July sun. A reward for trying to live a good life.

From time to time, when a tree cannot go on, or a limb has cracked because the thinning was insufficient, or worse, when an orchard is obliterated to make way for some future use, you get to see inside the tree. I don’t know of another fruit tree like it, for the first couple of days, the inside ringed wood itself is a bright, bittersweet orange you only get to see for a day or so.

But only when the branches or trees have been cut open. The color quickly fades. When I get lucky enough to be there at the end, it comes to me as a reminder, or perhaps a warning. Do not wait until the end of something to find the hidden value. This seems to be true for things, but I think it is imperative for the humans we travel with as well. I have never been disappointed when I assume there is some beauty inside and am often rewarded when I go looking.

That we should wait until something is cut and bleeding before we appreciate what is inside seems cruel. It is just punishment that we can only enjoy the beauty for a moment if we wait until the end to seek it.

Editorial and Advance Reader Contributors: Mark Wallace, Alisha Price, Heather Bergevin of Barrow Editing, Mette Ivie, Bonnie Wach, Francoise Boden, Mark Berg, Mike Hammer and Kathy Toelkes. Special thanks to Bill Davis for a kick in the pants that only a friend from your old stomping grounds can give you. Mt. Diablo and Apricot Tree painting by the talented and local artist, Greg Hart.