The old avocado tree seemed to be leaning more and more towards the ground. She was injured in a hurricane a few years ago and lost most of her top. The storm’s rushing water exposed a large proportion of her root system which damaged her even more. But she would not die and being still too large to prop back up, I had to leave her alone to her leanings.

.  .  .

The very next season she had new branches shooting towards the sky as if in defiance — they were taller and stronger and thicker than those she had before. The leaves appeared twice as large. She was returning to her majestic self. The termites that were feeding on her green wood dared not approach her larger-than-life newness, they humbly stayed where they were, continuing to make their homes in the older remaining branches.

 

.  .  .

Another season came and she was full of blossoms, more than I had ever seen before. And she continued to grow, the roots that were visible after the storm disappeared and new roots developed in their stead. The bats had a field day amongst her blossoms — bats pollinate avocado, they came like small space ships at evenings, moving so quickly that the naked eyes had difficulty in making out their form. These animals were awesome in their constant motion. Perhaps, bats and alien space ships had more in common than we know.

 

.  .  .

And when the fruits came, they appeared in what looked like the thousands but she shed many over the months, only keeping a few dozens.

Look at all the fruits falling to the ground,” my mother would say. “You should pound a nail in her truck, that helps to keep the fruits on.

How does that work?” I would ask teasingly, “What does the nail do to the plant, give the fruits stick-to-the-tree sauce, or some kind of nutrients via osmosis?

I don’t know,” she would shrug, “that’s what old people say.

I never pounded a nail into this beautiful tree. The fruits grew large and were quite delicious; their skin would turn a maroonish red to show readiness for harvest.

We enjoyed many fruits that season.

She brought to maturity only what she could carry.