Patience
When we moved into our current home in 2005, we inherited 3 trees that graced our back yard. Problem was, with half the yard taken by a rather large swimming pool, we needed more space for our 5 kids to have room to play. Since the next door neighbor wasn’t willing to give us any of his backyard space, it was obvious that two of the trees had to go.
The first to get the pink slip was a rather healthy fig tree. It was a beautiful tree but an easy choice because we don’t like figs. (I tried a Fig Newton once and, uh, well….anyway) The next choice was harder because it came down to a lemon tree and an orange tree. We like both fruits, so we chose to keep the orange tree based on the amount of shade it provided for my BarBQ area – which in Arizona is extremely important. The three trees were all different in which type of fruit they bore, but there was one common thread between them: Not once did I ever have to stand in the backyard and say to the trees in my best preacher voice “BEAR FRUIT, O TREE OF MINE.” (That would have been weird and provided unnecessary entertainment for the neighbors) It was in the DNA of the tree for fruit to come forth, a byproduct of what the tree was.

