Like a Prodigal Pawpaw Child

After an absence of ten months, here I come back to this blog, walking hangdog, a prodigal pawpaw child.

The world has changed since I last posted here about pawpaws. I got distracted from pawpaws by covid things, and working on a nonpawpaw-related book. Happily, that book is nearing completion.

But with all the distractions, and the discouragement that covid would stop our Utah Pawpaw Festival, some pawpaw-related things around here slid, and then genuinely collapsed. 

Consider the following:

1. I've felt shame that in spite of my past successes in getting pawpaw seeds to germinate, this year I only had one pawpaw seed germinate. And then it turned out that this germinating seed wasn't even a pawpaw--it was some English ivy! Maybe the germination rate was 0 because I used the same dirt as I used the previous year? This year, because of covid I didn't go out and buy any new dirt.

2. Of the 15 or so pawpaw seedlings that I had at the end of 2019, and that I put in the shed dormant to overwinter, only two survived. That's a higher rate of winter kill than I've ever had. So, I did a bad job. But to my credit, when an old pawpaw acquaintance of mine reached out and asked if I had any seedlings on hand, I gave him the two that survived.

3. Most of the fifteen or so pawpaw seedlings that we had in our strip of backyard (we have an almost nonexistent backyard, with more ample side yards) have wilted so that I doubt they'll recover and spring back to life in spring of 2021. It is and it isn't a lack of watering. Namely, it isn't a lack of watering because I indeed watered them quite often. But it is a lack of watering because I didn't water them as much as they evidently needed to be watered. My hope had been that they would start being self-sufficient after about three years in the ground, but even with their long taproots they didn't manage to become self-sufficient. It was an experiment and the pawpaws lost.

4. A few years ago, with our neighbors' permission, I planted three pawpaws on our next door neighbors' property, right at the margin between our house and their house, hoping these trees would become something of a natural fence. Those were the seedlings that for whatever reason were doing the best. But then one morning in summer 2020 I went out to water the seedlings and I saw that our neighbors' adult son, who hadn't been privy the agreement to have the pawpaws planted there, had pulled up two of the little trees like they were weeds. Indeed, he probably thought they were weeds. I didn't talk to him about it, of course. What was I going to say? "Hey, your dad said I could plant those trees there three years ago, when you weren't yet even an adult, and now, three years later, you've pulled them up because they still look like little weeds"?

5. And then oh! The annual Utah Pawpaw Fest! Cancelled because of covid. Of course, we could have it if we wanted to, and I was just on Instagram and saw that a pawpaw festival in the midwest just happened, covid masks and social distancing and all. But we're pretty conservative when it comes to social distancing. Or is it that we're pretty liberal when it comes to social distancing? What I mean is, we are cautious with this covid thing (and caution is usually a conservative virtue), which makes us, strangely, liberal. Still, conservative or liberal, it's rough to not hold the annual Utah Pawpaw Festival. It would have been the sixth annual this year. 

So, items 1 through 5 have afforded you your daily allotment of 2020 doom scrolling, with a pawpaw twist.

A few neutral to nice things about the state of our pawpaw household and larger neighborhood:

1. Last fall we gave some pawpaw seedlings to a friend in the neighborhood and I think they grew okay in her yard this summer. (Though her grapes grew very thick so it was often hard to see if the pawpaws were growing okay, through the grape-laden fence.)

2. Some other friends of ours in the neighborhood planted three pawpaw trees that they ordered from online. Last I heard, none of them had died, though a few of them didn't look super healthy.

3. Our big trees have given a lot of pawpaws this year. We're in the thick of things with the Shenandoah and Atwood. We're getting a few from the Susquehanna. The Wells is still holding tight to its fruit, late ripener that it is. And the Mango cultivar? It's grown taller than me. But it still hasn't given any fruit. And I've looked at its branches and can't find any of the tell tale small flower buds that would suggest it may flower and give fruit next year. Maybe they're there and I just don't see them because of the riotous leaves. November will tell.

4. Those of you who read this blog last year know that I lovingly catalogued every pawpaw that all of our trees produced. Individually weighing all six hundred pawpaws! And marking which fruit fell on which date! What was I thinking? This year, I've still got a bad taste in my mouth from that experience. My ocd can only carry me so far. So I haven't been able to bring myself to keep track of how many fruit fall from any of the trees. I can't bring myself to label them. I can't bring myself to write down the dates. And not to weigh them. Well, I did weigh two of them, as you'll see from the pics below.

5. Today I checked the email address I use for pawpaw purposes. I caught up on some pawpaw emails, responding to one enquirer a full seven months late. I should probably have included this item in the doom scrolling section of this post.

A couple other things: I caught covid in early July (I'm fine, just 5 days of mild symptoms), and I also discovered (very belatedly) Instagram. You can find my work in block printing, which sometimes features pawpaws: @brian.blockprinting

So here I am, easing back into this blog like the prodigal son-of-a-pawpaw-patch that I am.

 

our kitchen table today

weighing one of the big ones

weighing another big one