As I walked around the gardens last night, I noticed a familial scent that delicately etched distinct perfume laden channels through the thick nocturnal sea-air. It was there, and a step further, in a recess - it wasn't. I knew the fragrance but was slow to associate it with citrus trees. My citrus trees are mercurial in their fruit production and it is always a surprise to me when they decide to share their goodness. Had I not made this fortuitous discovery, I would have remained uninformed about my tree's happy predicament.
I bought the tree in question, a grafted pink grapefruit tree, from a local nursery. I‘ve had occasion to notice that similarly purchased trees have dissembled their identities. Truthfully, it may turn out to be anything from a Washington Navel orange to a Marsh grapefruit to a kleptomaniacal kumquat. Time tells all.
You can see the tiny fruit already in formation.
