Our grafted, fifteen-year-old apricot tree produced about fifty pounds of fruit this season. It’s a record. In fact, any previous record now seems laughable. Yes, that is a lot of fruit, and it happened all at once.

The tree is a curiosity. We learned about four-in-one grafted trees from a neighbor when my youngest son was turning 10. He was enamored, back in the day when gardens were more interesting than they are to a now 26-year-old, and he asked for a tree for his birthday. We were happy to oblige.

Starting with a single fruit tree, the grower adds three additional grafts, all of them stone fruit. The tree once produced apricots, plums, peaches, and nectarines; only two have survived and thrived over the years.

Most years, the fruit is quickly claimed by neighborhood critters. We’re ever hopeful, as we were this time last year, as we watched the fruit disappear from the tree, dropped into half-eaten, sticky, fruit-fly inviting messes on the garden floor.

Imagine our delight and surprise when this year’s bumper crop arrived. While the plum half of the tree produced some fruit, the tree is too tall to make any harvesting practical. I let out a sigh as I stepped over a few of them, but it was short-lived. The apricots, however, were prolific.

In record time, dozens of branches drooped from the weight of the fruit, with some clusters nearly touching the ground. I temporarily repurposed a sturdy garden trellis to support all that extra weight, and I thinned what I could to help lighten the load. It worked.

My research said that I could start harvesting the apricots as soon as they had some color and would give way to a gentle thumb press. I kept checking the tree like a new mum with a sleeping newborn.

Meanwhile, neighboring critters began to take stock of the fruit on the tree, color be darned. In fact, pound for pound, I think we can call it a draw.

We enjoyed those first few apricots, sweet and delicious, each one delivering on summer’s promise. I filled a basket for our kitchen. Then I filled a bag and took it to my sister and her caregivers. We offered fruit to friends and neighbors, and at the same time, fruit continued to fall at an alarming rate, half-eaten or bruised, leaving a mess on the garden floor.

It became clear at that point that even the unripe fruit would soon be lying on the ground, making nature’s version of apricot jam. I removed another twenty pounds of fruit and, this time, placed it at the curb with a free-apricot sign and several paper bags, and monitored the basket as the fruit slowly found a home, removing the mushy fruit every few hours.

This passed Wednesday I pruned the lower branches and watched as the tree lost all that weight and bounced back to its original height. It’s been a fun and interesting few weeks.

Now I will give my full attention to the garden’s reddening strawberries and tomatoes.