After a few pleasantries and pointed questions from my part, he began to tell the story. He did not know the name of the variety either. He felt that the avocados started roots in the fruit while they were still on the tree and that the sprouting made it non palatable for him. That sounded familiar. And, top that off with hard work avocado trees need from everyone who owns one, and you get a frustrated avocado grower. If only I had known what was going on in his mind a few months ago and if I knew this in fact was the correct variety, I would have easily negotiated removal of the tree and paid a tree removal service to replant the tree at my house. Or, at least share the tips and tricks of this temperamental variety and explain how to get it just right.
I lowered my head to see if I could glean something from the wreckage. There it was, an abused, omitted avocado, unencouraged and lying there. It looked beyond saving. It was evident that even the birds had a go at it and left it for not. I told my son to take it and handle it carefully, not knowing this was the prized fruit of my youth. But, just in case, I wanted to save it from the all to certain destination of the green waste garbage bin. My son clutched it carefully with his small but certain hands and we both headed home in the car. I began telling the stories of the best avocados ever to my singular captive audience all they way home.
Perhaps a week went by as a few oranges and garlic bulbs in a big blue bowl willingly squeezed aside to make room for the bruised and battered avocado welcoming it to a new home. Over time, nature had its way and the hardness of the avocado eased up and lent itself to becoming softer. Even the skin changed its look from having shiny and stretched looking pock marks changing to ever so slightly wrinkled and almost dry in appearance. I often caught myself engaging in long stares onto its skin while carefully clutching the slowly changing green orb. That last noticeable change was all too familiar. I performed the thumb test. It was ready to eat. Words, at least mine, cannot convey the delight I felt. Even though I second guessed myself a few times, my wife was right there to concur that this was in fact the right variety of avocado we all coveted. Call it what you will, but we will name the variety as one Zutano/Fuerte Avocado. I almost started story telling to my long-suffering wife who has heard over and over, "I miss mom and dad's avocados... Remember the time when I had to climb the tree..."
It takes years for a young avocado tree to bear fruit. Heaven knows I have tried--only to discover that it was the wrong variety of avocado. As the bearer of the fine fruit must almost always wait for the avocado to become ready to eat, patience is what all avocado lovers must endure. There is nothing really fast about an avocado tree accept during its mature stages. Then you soon realize that they never stop growing, and their speed of growth increases significantly.
But alas, my parent's prize avocado trees and now the nurtured Glenmoor tree were gone, never to blossom again. I may have found the avocado, but my hope of ever learning the right variety were dashed. Or, wait a minute... Perhaps not. I now have one undeniable seed of hope, the seed itself.
Wish me luck!
by Jeff Pereyda