But pomegranates are funny about temperature. If it's too chilly, the blossoms won't set. This year was one of those years. We had a sudden rash of chilly days -- cool enough to wipe out my cucumber babies I'd just planted out in the garden. Neither the pomegranates nor the cherry tree (which was blooming profusely at the same time) set many fruits at all.
There will be some poms, I'm sure, so long as the vermin don't get them. The cherries, what few there were, were eaten by Joma and the mockingbirds.
Oh, yes, mockingbirds. For some reason, our neighborhood has an overgrowth of mockingbirds. Neighbors across the street have a young cherry tree that did set a lot of fruit, and they got none of it because the scrub jays and especially the mockingbirds stripped it bare. "And that bird was looking at me," the neighbor said. "Looking at me, right in the eyes!" He was outraged, just as I was years ago when the mockingbird of that time stared at me while stealing grapes off our vine. Now I just stare back and when a hawk flies over, I instruct her to eat more mockingbirds. She doesn't listen, she's too preoccupied with the thought of ground squirrels, which are dumber and more easy to catch.
This farming business is risky, even when it's in a suburban setting.
But I must admit, those blossoms were gorgeous, food for the soul if not for the whole neighborhood.
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