My neurologist and I despair of fixing my migraines, so today’s med check ended up a chat about pawpaw trees: how they reproduce, how hardly anyone beats the possums to the fruit, and where ordinary folk (not just nature nerds) can see them. He suggested Deerwood Arboretum in Brentwood, so on the way home I found it and followed the kiosk map to tree #47: the pawpaw (Asimina triloba).
What joy to see these floppy hillbillies leaning over the suburban paved trail, labeled at the eye-level of dog-walkers and brisk ladies in workout gear. I couldn’t help but wish the whole property wasn’t so . . . groomed (so much lawn!), but I’m delighted one of my favorite trees is accessible and well marked. I gotta give Brentwood points for pawpaw consciousness-raising.
And before you think of sneaking over to pilfer fruit, I didn’t see a single flower bud. I wonder why? The looked old enough to reproduce. I know pawpaws are notoriously iffy about pollination, but shouldn’t there have been a few buds prepping for spring already?