A Census of Pawpaw Fruits

This morning I went outside and found that the second pawpaw seed of the year has sprouted, but this post isn't about any old seeds--what pawpaw people care most about is the fruit. 

And last night, to the best of my ability, I picked through the leafy foliage of the Shenandoah, the KSU-Atwood, and the Wells to find each and every piece of fruit. 

I may have missed some among the big leaves, and I may have accidentally recounted a few pawpaws here and there, but here's my best count for how many pieces of fruit each tree is on course to produce this year:

The Shenandoah: 65 (last year's final tally: 33)--a predicted increase of 32

The KSU-Atwood: 23 (last year's final tally: 34)--a predicted decrease of 11

The Wells: 37 (last year's final tally: 13)--a predicted increase of 24

The Total: 125 (last year's final tally: 80)--a predicted increase of 45    

(For more details on last year's harvest, see this 2016 post.)

After I finished counting the Shenandoah and the Atwood, I was tired of counting pawpaws. Nevertheless, I persisted.

A particularly heavy-laden branch of the Wells

After I finished counting all the pawpaws, I went over to our dead Prairie Sun American persimmon tree, which, even though the graft has failed, has unimproved roots that are sending up shoots. Last night it was time to select the shoot that was going to survive and hopefully turn into a tree.

There wasn't a lot of pomp and circumstance, like some people do when they're announcing who's "fired" on fifth-rate reality TV; I just selected the tallest shoot as the winner and cut down the rest.

The mountain is a monument to the persimmon shoot's elegy