Ten fruit trees arrived several weeks ago now. It was a big day.
Planting an orchard. Something about it almost made me teary. It's quite the statement of commitment to a place, isn't it? Taking the time to do something now that won't bear fruit, quite literally, for years to come.
Before we found out about Lachlan's heart condition, we were primed to move to my hometown in Northern California - close to my parents, in the mountains, by the river. As it turns out, it's not all that close to Stanford Medical Center, where Lachlan would be treated.
Plans change. A year and a half later, we find ourselves here, close to Duke, and my parents have moved to be near us. We have a beautiful piece of green land - not in the mountains, but the hills are rolling. We are putting down roots, making this place ours.
In a rush of sentimentality and serendipity (both my former region in California and the Piedmont in North Carolina are in growing zone 7) the trees are from my childhood home - Peaceful Valley in Grass Valley, California.
Now that feels good. Putting down California roots in the rich soil of North Carolina.
Oh, and did I talk about rain pants in my last post? Oops. Guess Daddy forgot to put them on. Guess he also forgot to take off the handknit sweater.
As you can see, my boys were quite involved in the days-long process. From inspecting, trimming, and soaking the roots to digging and filling the drainage test holes, they weren't afraid to get their hands (or, in Lachlan's case - face) dirty.
My Dad, who zoomed through his recovery from his triple-bypass, was there to help dig and lend his expertise to the operation. I remember planting the orchard at my childhood home with him. It was my job to paint the trunks white.
Some things don't change.
