Plum suckers

We are living like vampires. That’s how my friend Alice describes our lives with this endless hot weather.  Windows closed, shutter and curtains secured by 10am. Everyone skulking indoors until it is safe to go out in the cool of the evening.

When we first moved here, I assumed the typical Australian method of cooling the house. All windows and doors open, trying to catch a breeze and circulate it through the house.

It never seemed to work.

And every time I went up to visit friends – French friends – it was like going into the doom and cool of church.

How did they manage it? And the answer lies in the vampiric method.  I tried an experiment. Doors and windows wide open from 7am to around 9am. (With the added bonus of getting Artur to skulk in and visit for a chat and a bowl of milk.) And then all closed.

And it works. It’s not glacial, but it is much more comfortable. I guess there are some advantages to having tiled floors. If they are cool, they stay cool.

But in case you think it’s all reading novels (Kolymsky Heights by Lionel Davidson, too thrilling) and eating chocolates with my feet up, here is my work of early morning.

I have attacked the plum suckers.

If you have a bare orchard or garden, you would not plant these trees. Plums. They sucker. That means that no matter how hard you try, these annoying new plum trees will try their best to pop up everywhere and try and make a new tree. A non fruiting tree. Suckers are just a pain.

And I inherited a lot of plums on this farm. Which means I do get to swear a lot as struggle to hold back the tide of unwanted suckers. Turn your back one season and a tree appears. In the wrong place.

And the plums aren’t even very good.  Here is the one example of fruit on the trees that are in front of the house, right in front of the lavender bank.

It is the one example, as the maximum these trees have ever produced is around fourteen. Every two years.

So not madly productive. My green gauges (or possibly mirabelles) are about to ripen and shower me with fruit in the shade garden bank. But they are the exception to my plums in front of the house.

The tree trunks are fetching.  And I know that is damning with faint praise. But it’s true.

So I chopped and hacked around the base of the trees and removed endless suckering tough plants.  This is made even tougher because I have still have been unable to find my favourite secateurs.

Dare I admit they might be in the teetering pile of green in the compost heap? I’ll have to wait until spring next year before I grub them out. Argggh.