Our mango trees are in bloom. The Carrie already has about fifty baby mangoes on it. Hopefully, half of those will be retained. The Keitt has just begun blooming. We’ll be eating Carries in June and July, Keitts in August and September.
I moved the red banana trees to the back yard. They are about ten trees, all around 4 to 6 feet tall. They survive from a twelve-year old rhizome we cultivated as houseplants in Oklahoma. Hopefully, they will survive the transplant. And the dog.
We harvested the last of the Buttercrunch lettuce and arugula this weekend. Eight plants and enough lettuce to share with two neighbors. Midge planted Romaine lettuce and kale. Hopefully, we’ll get a decent harvest before it gets too hot.
Who could have possibly picked a half-ripe tomato in the back yard, smuggled it into the bedroom and ate it on Midge’s robe on the bed? Somebody is sneaky around here.
Although we’ve had a lot of wind for several days, our coconut trees picked yesterday to drop fronds and fruit — after the yard waste truck had passed. I piled the coconuts at the curb so my neighbor can plant them on his Lake Okeechobee property; the fronds, about twenty of them, will have to smother the grass in my back yard for a week.
I bought Midge a hard hat today, so she can pull weeds underneath coconut trees.
My Chinese-Jamaican neighbor gave me about ten pounds of longans, a Chinese relative of the lychee, in exchange for the many surplus coconuts I’ve given him. Many of those coconuts have been planted on his Lake Okeechobee property where these longans grow. Longans have a delicious flavor that is hard to describe–a little bit of white grape and pear with a slight floral taste and the tiniest hint of pearl onion. We may eat them all before the weekend is over.
Our first, brief trip to South Florida was for a job interview. We immediately took to the subtropical environment, the cosmopolitan setting and the overall ambiance. When my wife was hired, we were thrilled. We came down again to tour houses with a realtor, seeing dozens of properties. We found many in our price range needed a great deal of work or were in bad locations. We were tired on the next to last day of our visit and beginning to think the trip was a wash. I’m sure the realty agent was about to give up on her commission when she took us to the house that was to become our home. It was a little more expensive than we had planned, but it had many positive qualities, not the least of which was a decent yard with six big coconut palms.
Well into the 70’s, South Florida had many thousands of coconut palms, mostly of the “Jamaica Tall” variety. Due to the spread of Lethal Yellowing disease from Jamaica through the Florida Keys, practically every one of these majestic beauties had died by the early 80’s. Hybrids were developed, particularly a combination of Malaysian and Panamanian varieties, called the “Maypan.” Since then, coconut palms have seen a resurgence in South Florida, although about ten percent of the resistant hybrids still succumb to this virulent bacterial disease.
When we moved into our house, these coconut palms were all in excess of twenty-five feet to the base of the crown, the tallest perhaps forty feet, making them quite old for this type of tree in Palm Beach county. One of our neighbors told us that they were originally in a yard across the street from us. When they reached adolescent height, the homeowner had tired of them, having a somewhat small yard for such potentially large trees. The previous owner of our house had paid to have them moved to this yard, a costly affair. We were, of course, grateful at his foresight as they were beautiful, productive specimens of one of our favorite palm varieties. They were the tallest trees on our block, except for solitary Norfolk Island pines in two yards, which had grown to gigantic proportions, because this part of Florida had been spared hurricanes for 20 years.
We’ve gotten quite a yield from these trees. We’ve befriended a Jamaica-born groundskeeper who works in our area and he harvests green coconuts from them at least a couple of times a year. I’ve given him the bulk of them, usually keeping a dozen to use. There is nothing quite as refreshing as green coconut water straight from the source and the unripe meat yields a jelly when scraped that is delicious, as well. We harvest some mature coconuts, too. Fresh coconut meat isn’t as sweet as the grated variety in stores and we could eat it all day, if not for practicing some restraint. The dry, brown coconuts that fall to the ground are actually the best ones for seeding and we know another Jamaican expatriate down the street who plants them on his land near Lake Okeechobee. I’ll leave a couple by the curb every so often and I’ll see him stop to pick them up as he passes.
Having coconut trees in your yard has its hazards. When mowing or gardening, I keep an eye out while underneath the tree and I occasionally have to remind the neighborhood kids to avoid them. A coconut falling from around thirty feet is not unlike a cannonball and could pretty easily crack your nut. Also, the largest fronds weigh fifteen pounds or more. Fronds are very woody and rigid at the base. One of those falling on you would definitely wake you up, or more likely, knock you out. All in all, the tradeoffs are worth it and we’ve quite enjoyed keeping them.
Unfortunately, this is were the story becomes a tale of woe. After about a year, the production on one tree dropped off and we worried about it. Noticing that a new frond sprouting from the top was pale. I contacted a palm tree expert and he confirmed our sneaking suspicion–it had contracted Lethal Yellowing. If we had known more about this disease and noticed the tree not flowering properly, it would have been easier to treat with a series of antibiotics. As it was, the chances were the expensive treatment would be in vain. So, our only real option was to cut it down. At least we still had five of our prized trees.
We escaped our first year without a hurricane, but then our luck turned. Two major hurricanes a year for two years and a couple of tropical storms later, the landscape in our area had drastically changed with many large, old trees down, including the Norfolk pines and a staggering number of huge ficus trees. Our yard took damage each time, not the least of which was the loss of a small mango tree. A lot of coconuts blew down in the first three major hurricanes and the coconut fronds looked like hell after each storm, but Hurricane Wilma was the one that hurt. It hit the west coast first and traveled a few hours across land to arrive here, but it strength didn’t diminish and we experienced a low-end category three storm. We took major damage to our roof, screen enclosure and fence, but the most heartbreaking was that another of our coconut trees was killed. When we came out after the storm to survey the damage, we were pretty sure the top of one tree was critically twisted, but we held out hope. Unfortunately, not many days later, the entire crown fell out of the tree and we were down to four.
Of the remaining palms, the tallest was alone on the far side of our driveway. The other three are directly in front of our house. One morning, during a brief spring thunderstorm, I sat at my computer with a front window to my side. I heard the thunder in the distance move closer, but thought little of it. Just as rain started, lightning struck so nearby, my eye nearest the window filled with blue-white light and my ears rang. It obvious the strike was quite close, but it was a week later when I realized how close.
On my way to my truck one day, I noticed the tallest coconut tree seemed odd. The fronds were all suddenly hanging lower than the day before. Within another day, the trunk began oozing rusty, red fluid. The next morning, I went outside with binoculars to study the crown of the tree to get an idea about the health of the newest growth. A neighbor’s visiting uncle told me what I was beginning to suspect–this tree was where the lightning had struck. He had been working on a landscape crew and they watched lightning hit a similar tree. The symptoms were the same. Just as he told me it would, within a couple of days the fronds begans falling off the tree in great numbers. Our coconut trees are reduced by half and we hope this tragic tale is over.
Our friends know we are long-time environmentalists and avid gardeners, so I’m sure they have some idea of how devastating this has been for us. Of course, these three trees represent literally thousand of dollars of loss and a real source of pride in our property, but these are minor parts of the sadness we’ve felt. It will probably sound silly to most people, but the only thing I can compare losing a palm tree like this to is losing a valued pet. Your heart is sick and your spirit diminished for days. This beautiful, nourishing thing gone after surviving so much for so many years. It reminds you of the fleeting, fragile nature of life itself.
We do try to focus on the joy they brought us and we will continue to appreciate the remaining palms for as long as we have them. And we are glad to know that a grove of their offspring are growing out by the lake. Yet I still remember with great clarity and fondness the first day I saw them all together, but now, not without a little sadness.