The Trees, Part 4

Our house in Santa Monica, where I grew up, had a tall palm tree in the front yard, a lightless beacon drawing us home. I loved the palm tree because it was unique. Palm trees are plentiful in Southern California but not in front yards. We also a beautiful bougainvillea climbing up the front of the house. 

In the back yard we had an apricot tree and an avocado tree up against the garage wall, both planted by my dad. The apricot tree I loved because I could climb to the garage roof and pick the fruit. I am sure I was first to eat the apricots every year. Once or twice I was "spoken to" about it by my mother. The apricots were for the family, after all. I suppose that should have stopped me, but I was only lightly deterred. To me the apricots were like the strawberries my dad planted along the fence on the west side of the house: if you don't get them first, you may not get them at all. 

The avocado tree never grew very tall, and I would not have picked the fruit for just me, but I learned to love avocados. My dad taught me. My dad also planted two dwarf lemon trees, and we had homemade lemonade on Sundays, which we loved.

Our neighbor's fig tree hung over the fence behind our garage, but I left the figs alone. I was not a fan of figs, and our neighbor was mean.