My grandfather kept a small apricot tree just past one of his rose gardens.  Gnarled and ancient, the tree draped over a path that led to the large vegetable garden, orchard and pond.  In the early spring the tree would blossom heavily, humming with delighted bees.  Heavy blossoms meant heavy yield and by late June the branches would be bending under the weight of the ripening apricots.   Continue reading →