The last man standing

loquat
Before: The loquat sagging with its little fruities.

FREQUENT VISITORS here will know of my campaign to eliminate plants in the Hacienda yard, those that toss trash, causing me effort and headache.

There was the giant nopal, the towering pear and, of course, the monster bougainvillea. All gone now, thank the Goddess, and my life is better for it.

middle
During: The guys butcher the bush with chainsaw and machetes.

There was just one more major trash-tosser, the loquat which was here before we built the hacienda 16 years ago. It was one of a few fruiting nuisances on the property when we took possession. Another was a big fig, but that was removed to build the second carport.

The towering pear was here too. Before I learned my lesson I also planted an orange, but it’s still fairly small. I planted another pear, which was removed before the older, towering one was eliminated. I stupidly planted the nopal, letting it grow into a giant hell-raiser.

I also planted magueys that grew like mad. They’ve all been removed except a couple in planters. You can control greenery in planters. My two aloe veras have also reached massive proportions, but they throw little trash, which is sweet of them, and they’re good for burns, of course. But my child bride wants one of them gone. We’ll see.

end
After: Not much left, but it will revive.

I’m leaving the base of the loquat, mostly to appease my child bride who did not know of my hiring the guys who came today and wreaked havoc. I caught her by surprise.

She is not happy.

I leave you with this last photo, which is the sort of plant I prefer around here. The rainy season will be ending soon, two weeks or less, with luck. November is the nicest month in these parts, neither wet nor dusty, just sunny and mild and beautiful.

paradise
Birds of paradise. Photo shot before the gutting of the loquat back there.

18 thoughts on “The last man standing

  1. What is it with you and trees, Felipe? Or do we have to send Jennifer over to take away your machete, chainsaw and other instruments of destruction? Geez!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Señor Lanier: I like plants. I like trees though I do not hug them. What I do not want in my yard, especially now that I’m getting a bit long in the tooth and do NOT enjoy gardening, are plants that shed trash all over the place like Pig Pen in the Charlie Brown comics. Prior to today’s bloodbath, I had removed all trash-tossing plants from the yard. I had hoped I could leave the loquat in peace because my wife was very fond of it. However, her fondness was mostly in her head. The only practical payback she got from the loquat was two or three smallish, plastic bags she would fill up once a year and take to her sister. That was it. For that, I had to endure months of rotten fruit in the grass I had to rake up and bag, endless piles of large dead leaves, about the size of magnolia leaves, that I had to torch in big bonfires every week or so through the season. It was nonstop bother and work.

      But then last week, I noticed the damn thing was taller than ever and there were hundreds of developing fruit, maybe thousands, most of which would fall to rot in the grass. I do not have a fulltime yardman like you two rich Chicagoans. I am a poor Southern Cracker.

      I hope this answers your query.

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  2. The thing about loquat trees is that they just stand there, minding their own business. Dropped leaves, yes, but not in piles upon piles. Get a few squirrels and they will take care of the plums.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Carole: I’m guessing the loquats you are familiar with are Gringo loquats that are relatively mild in nature. Mine did not just stand there minding its own business. It was a trash factory of mind-boggling proportions. The quantity of dropped leaves was spectacular, yes, piles upon piles. Get a few squirrels? Squirrels in these parts are as rare as those proverbial hen’s teeth. We ain’t got no steenking squirrels. Really. It’s odd. Never seen a single squirrel in my neighborhood and darn few anywhere. They don’t appear fond of Mexico.

      Liked by 1 person

  3. When it comes to trashy throwers, I give fruit trees the benefit of the doubt — if they produce something that is actually used in the kitchen. Otherwise, they are like teenagers tossing out McDonald’s wrappers on the highway to Yosemite. Cutting them down is the sole option. The trees, that is. I will leave cutting down teenagers to other commenters.

    I have never tasted fresh loquats. My sole exposure has been to the potted syrupy version often served in mediocre Chinese restaurants as a desert in an attempt to make up for a bad meal. Far too sweet for my taste.

    As for the unannounced execution, I offer no opinion. I am not entitled. I have never managed to bamboozle a woman into marrying me, so I have no right to offer opinions on marital bliss. However, you knew there would be resentment, and there is.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Señor Cotton: Well, before yesterday, you could have come here and carried away bushels of fresh loquats. But not now. Sad. Yes, I irritated the female side to a very, very great degree. I think I have calmed her down today, however. Wish me luck.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. I looked up “loquats” and they are fruits that Mexicans call “nisperos.” We have a nispero in the front patio here but it doesn’t produce much fruit. I tried a nispero once and thought it was good; Felix says they are “muy ricos.”

        And apparently, people in Spain make jellies and all kinds of stuff with nisperos (https://www.spainfoodsherpas.com/the-loquat-fruit-in-spain/), including some sort of booze, which I wouldn’t try if I were you.

        So by getting rid of the loquat, you might have passed up a substantial income stream. No wonder your wife was angry.

        al

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        1. Señor Lanier: Yes, they are nisperos. But my wife never had any interest in having an income stream. She just loves having fruit trees out there. She’s a fruit nut, so to speak. Here is a list of the things she loves, in descending order of passion.

          1. Babies.
          2. Fruit trees.
          3. Me (I think)

          Actually, No. 1 and No. 2 may be in a tie for first place. If that’s true, it would leave the No. 2 spot open. Presumably, I would rise from No. 3 to No. 2, but who knows? Especially not today.

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  4. Oh, how I love birds of paradise. I had magnificent specimens in Honduras. Now, I’m on the north shore of New Orleans where bird of paradise is not a favored plant. Today, I have a gardener in my employ who is tending to the blueberry bushes and rose bushes. Different climate, but same pleasures I suppose.

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    1. Patzman: If you’re referring to spouse control, things have settled down. It took a while. What I was thinking was the loquat was on the point of dumping over a period of weeks, perhaps months, in the immediate future, more junk than it had ever dumped in previous years, and that is saying something. I was standing there one day, looking up, way up, farther up than in previous years, and I said to myself: That thing has got to go.

      And it is gone, though not completely, unlike the pear, the peach, the nopal, all gone completely. The loquat will return, and the issue will also return, but no time soon. Perhaps I will be dead, and she can revel in rotting loquats littering the yard from here to there. It will be her just desserts. Sad.

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  5. Maybe it’s time to give up grass instead. Then you could just leave the fruit to rot. Or step up Abel’s hours. You’re so lucky in the wife department; don’t mess it up.

    Saludos,

    Kim G
    Boston, MA
    Where we’d be THRILLED to have no squirrels. Instead, they are a horde, wreaking havoc in all parts.

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    1. Kim: I would love to have no grass and no fruit trees, just concrete and stone. Wouldn’t that be sweet? I may eliminate a bit more grass early next year. As for the wife department, she ain’t gonna dump me over no fruit trees, though she did get quite bent out of shape over the loquat, primarily because I sprung it on her with little warning. My bad.

      Yep, no squirrels. It’s the oddest thing.

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