Can We Really Grow That Here? Exotic Fruits in My Trinidad Garden

One ripe fig… and the rest are still keeping me waiting. 😂

“Every seed tells a story. Plant it with hope but let the garden write the ending.”

One of the things I love about gardening in Trinidad is that every now and then, a plant comes along and makes you stop and say:

“Wait nah… you can grow that here?”

My garden has had quite a few of those surprises over the years.

I have Mediterranean figs. I have miracle fruit. I used to have strawberries and grapes. My longan flowers quite nicely and does give me fruit, although the fruits are small and the bunches are never as full as I would like.

And then there is my rambutan story.

Oh, the rambutan story. 😂

When “Growing” Doesn't Mean “Fruiting”

Sometimes we gardeners use the words “I can grow it” rather loosely.

A plant may grow beautifully.

It may get big. It may flower.

And then… nothing.

That has certainly been part of my experience with some of these less-common fruits.

The longan was putting on quite a floral display — and apparently, I wasn't the only one who noticed.

There was a wasp hovering around the flowers, doing whatever wasps do when they're investigating a garden buffet. 😂

My longan is a good example. When it flowers, it can put on quite a show. With all those flowers, I was already imagining a bumper crop…

But as every gardener knows, flowers are only the beginning of the story.

So I have learned not to get too excited just because I see flowers.

And here they are — a few tiny longans beginning to form. 

After all those flowers, I was hoping for a little more generosity from my tree. 😂

It does produce fruit, but the bunches are usually small and the fruits are on the smaller side.

Still, I can't complain too much.

A few fruits are better than none — and I'll take them!

Flowers are promising. Fruit is the real report card.

And even that isn't always as simple as it sounds. Fruit production can depend on the plant, pollination, weather and other conditions. So a tree covered in flowers isn't necessarily a tree covered in fruit.

My Eight-Year Rambutan Experiment

Then there are my two older rambutan plants.

I grew them from seed.

I waited.

And waited. And waited.

Eight years later, they finally flowered.

You would think I would have been doing my happy garden dance.

Well, I was… until I discovered that the first plant was male.

Never mind, I thought.

I'll keep it. Perhaps the second one will turn out to be female, and we'll have ourselves a little rambutan partnership.

So I waited for the second plant to flower.

And guess what?

Male.

Both of them.

Two rambutan plants. Plenty of flowers. No fruit.

At that point, a sensible person might have decided that perhaps rambutan wasn't meant to be.

But gardeners aren't always sensible people. 😂

I planted five more.

I'm still waiting to see what that little rambutan army has planned for me.

And that's the funny thing about growing fruit from seed. You don't always know exactly what you're going to get, and some fruit trees can take years before they reach maturity.

Just ask me about my abiu.

Ten Years for an Abiu

Ma planted that abiu seed.

And I waited ten years.

Yes, ten.

By the time that tree finally started producing, I had almost forgotten how long I had been waiting for that first fruit.

But when it finally came, it was worth the wait.

Ten years of waiting… and this is what I was waiting for! A platter of abiu from my garden.

And that is one of the things I enjoy about growing fruit from seed. You plant a little seed, nurture it, watch it become a tree, and then one day it finally decides to tell you what it has been up to all along.

Of course, the abiu itself is another story.

And this is what’s hiding inside an abiu

That soft, jelly-like flesh is part of what makes this fruit so unusual. It's sweet, creamy and definitely not what you might expect when you first cut one open.

Just be warned — it can leave your lips feeling a little sticky afterwards. 😂

After waiting ten years for my first harvest, though, I wasn't complaining!

But that's part of the fun of growing fruits that aren't part of the usual backyard collection.

You don't just harvest a fruit.

You get a story.

The Fruits I Didn't Expect to Have

My Med fig is of those plants that makes me smile because it is just not the sort of fruit people automatically associate with a Trinidad home garden.

And this is what’s hiding inside a Med fig. 

The outside may not look like the fruits we usually associate with a Trinidad garden, but cut one open and you get this beautiful, soft interior.

It's one of those fruits that makes me stop and appreciate just how many different things our gardens can surprise us with.

Who says a tropical garden has to be predictable? 😂

Then there is miracle fruit.

Miracle fruit growing happily on its branch. 

These little berries may not look like much, but they have quite a party trick.

Eat one, and for a while, sour foods can taste surprisingly sweet. It's one of those little garden surprises that makes growing unusual fruits so much fun.

Small fruit. Big personality. 😂

It's certainly a conversation starter.

I also used to grow strawberries.

Yes, strawberries.

They actually grew here for me — until the "Bachac" (leaf-cutting ants) decided that my strawberry patch belonged to them.

That was the end of that experiment. 😆

I also used to have grapes, another fruit that some people might not immediately expect to see growing in a Trinidad garden.

So my garden has taught me that the word exotic can be a funny thing.

Exotic to whom?

A fruit that seems unusual to us may be perfectly ordinary somewhere else.

And sometimes the real question isn't:

“Can it grow here?”

It's:

“Can I get it to fruit here?”

And What About Blueberries and Blackberries?

This is where things get really interesting.

I've been seeing people bringing blueberries and blackberries into the conversation too, with claims that they are actually fruiting here.

Now, I'm not about to tell you to rush out and plant a dozen blueberry bushes because somebody on the internet got a harvest. 😂

But I do find it fascinating.

It makes me wonder how many fruits we automatically assume belong to cooler climates might be worth experimenting with here under the right conditions.

That is one of the things I enjoy about gardening.

Someone tries something.

It works.

Someone else tries the same thing.

It doesn't.

And then we start asking questions.

What variety was it?

Where was it planted?

What was the weather like?

How old was the plant?

Was it grown from seed or propagated from a known variety?

And, perhaps most importantly…

Did it actually fruit?

Because there is a big difference between posting a photograph of a healthy plant and posting a photograph of a plate of fruit you actually harvested from it.

My Take

I'm not suggesting that every gardener in Trinidad should start collecting exotic fruit plants.

Lord knows, I have enough plants already. 😂

But I do think it is fun to look beyond the usual list of tropical fruits and see what else might have a place in our gardens.

Some will surprise us. Some will struggle.

Some will flower and leave us waiting.

Some will fruit beautifully. Some will take ten years.

And some may give us an eight-year lesson in patience before revealing that we have been raising two males.

But that's gardening.

We plant with hope, we watch, we learn — and sometimes we plant five more.

I haven't given up on my rambutan yet.

So tell me…

What unusual or “exotic” fruit are you growing in your garden?

Have you managed to get something fruiting that people told you wouldn't grow here?

Or do you have a plant that flowers beautifully and seems to be playing a long game with you?

Tell me about it in the comments. I'd love to hear what other Trinidad and Caribbean gardeners are growing — and what is actually making it to the fruit bowl!

And when that first fruit finally comes after all those years?

That's when you do the happy garden dance. 💃🏽🌱

Keep growing — your garden (and your confidence) will follow.

And whatever you're growing, waiting for, or wondering about…

Stay grounded!

 

Grey hair, green thumb and proud of my roots.

thegreyhairedgardener.blogspot.com

https://www.pinterest.com/thegreyhairedgardener

What's Bugging My Garden?

 

The striped beetle that stripped my chowrai bhaji!

“Simple works. Smart lasts. Sustainable grows.”

Have you ever planted a lovely patch of chowrai bhaji, only to find that something has been eating its way through your hard work? 😩

I have!

A couple years ago, I had a patch of chowrai bhaji (Amaranthus dubius) that attracted an abundance of these striped beetles. The damage was severe. They stripped the leaves, leaving little more than the framework of veins behind!

Take a good look at my photo. There's our suspect, caught right on the scene. 😂

Caught in the act! This striped beetle was one of the suspects in the great chowrai bhaji leaf-stripping affair. The exact species is still to be confirmed.

🐞 Friend or foe?

Definitely a pest worth investigating! The beetle was feeding on my bhaji, but its exact species still needs confirmation. Several striped beetles look alike, so let's not jump to conclusions.

I've also spotted similar-looking beetles on my bodi and cucumber plants. Some related beetles feed on several crops, so it's worth checking your other plants, too.

🌱 What can you do?

1. Keep an eye on your plants.

Check regularly for beetles and fresh feeding damage. Don't wait until your leaves look like skeletons!

2. Try the bucket trick — if you have a small patch.

These beetles are fast! If you disturb the plant, some may drop. Hold a container of soapy water beneath the foliage and gently tap the plant to catch any that fall.

Now, let me be honest: this method is really only practical if you have a few plants. If you've planted 40 bhaji plants, you're hardly going to spend the whole morning chasing beetles with a bucket! 😂

For a larger patch, you'll need a more practical approach, especially if the infestation is severe.

3. What about neem?

Trinidad and Tobago's Ministry of Agriculture has included a homemade neem-seed preparation in its Pest Control for Home Gardeners guide. The guide describes soaking 50 g of crushed neem seed in 1 litre of water for 12–24 hours.

However, that is general home-garden guidance, not proof that this particular preparation will control our unidentified beetle. If you choose a neem-based product, follow its label for the crop, pest and harvest interval. Test a small area first and protect pollinators.

4. Don't overlook garden hygiene.

Remove badly damaged or dying plant material where appropriate and keep the growing area tidy. This is sensible garden practice, although we shouldn't assume that removing debris alone will eliminate this beetle.

🌿 Have you met this garden pest?

Have you seen these striped beetles on your bhaji, bodi, cucumber or other crops? How bad was the damage?

 Striped Beetle on my Bhaji plant

Tell me in the comments. If you have a photo, I'd love to see it!

Got a garden question? Drop it in the comments — I might feature it next! 🌱

Keep growing — your garden (and your confidence) will follow.

Stay grounded!

Grey hair, green thumb and proud of my roots 

thegreyhairedgardener.blogspot.com

https://www.pinterest.com/thegreyhairedgardener

My Garden Is My Gym

 

Who needs a gym membership when your garden already has you squatting, stretching, lifting, walking—and occasionally sprinting for your life?

Hi everyone...

Well, I had a little dilemma this week.

I sat down to write and couldn't decide what I wanted to talk about.

Was this going to be about the ageing gardener—the creaks, the groans, the knees that sometimes remind you that you are no longer twenty-five?

Or was it going to be about gardening as exercise—all that bending, stretching, lifting, walking and generally moving around that happens when you're working in the garden?

Then it hit me.

They're really the same story.

Because as we get older, the way we garden changes. And perhaps that's not such a bad thing.

I may not bend quite as quickly as I once did. I may think twice before attempting to wrestle a stubborn weed out of the ground. And these days, if something is too far away, I am quite happy to ask myself, "Do I really need that?"

But I'm still moving.

And that's what I love about gardening.

My garden is my gym.

Except my gym doesn't have a membership fee, no one is counting my repetitions, and the exercises are completely unpredictable.

Yesterday, for example, I was doing what I would call a perfectly respectable amount of gardening.

A little bending to harvest.

A little stretching to reach.

A little walking back and forth.

A little lifting. A little weeding.

Nothing dramatic.

Then the Security Team spotted something.

Mr. Iguana.

And suddenly my quiet gardening session turned into an obstacle course.

The dogs took off like they had been professionally trained for this very moment.

Unfortunately, my tomato seedlings and baby lettuces were apparently considered acceptable collateral damage.

There went the lettuce box.

So much for my newly planted lettuce seedlings😠

The garden gym has its moments. The Security Team doesn't believe in gentle exercise.

There went a tomato stake.

And there I was—squatting down to rescue the lettuce, lunging to restake a tomato and marching off to find compost.

Apparently, I had just completed my garden version of a full-body workout.

No treadmill required.

And that's the thing about gardening.

You don't always realise how much you're moving until you stop.

You bend down to pull one weed and notice you've pulled twenty.

You walk to the shed for something and realise you've made that trip six times.

You carry a bucket of compost.

You reach for a fruit.

You kneel. You stand.

You stretch. You walk.

And sometimes, if your Security Team sees something they shouldn't, you even sprint.

Part of the Security Team- Patches aka Miss Fiesty.  Unfortunately, “collateral damage” is part of their job description😂

My garden doesn't give me a workout plan. It gives me surprises.

And as I get older, I'm beginning to appreciate that more and more.

Because ageing doesn't mean we have to stop doing the things we love.

It simply means we may have to do them differently.

Maybe I work for a shorter time and rest more often.

Maybe I use a tool instead of pulling something by hand.

Maybe I bring a little stool into the garden.

Maybe I don't try to conquer the entire garden in one morning.

And maybe I listen when my knees say, "That's enough for today, hun."

There is no shame in that.

The important thing is that I'm still out there.

Still planting. Still harvesting.

Still pulling weeds. Still discovering insects.

Still learning. Still getting my hands dirty.

And still occasionally chasing an iguana because apparently that is now part of my fitness programme.

We don't have to stop growing just because we're getting older. As Ma used to say, "If you don't plant, you don't reap".... A lovely bunch of Tango oranges, almost ready for harvesting! 

A Little Garden Wisdom

“The garden doesn't ask how old you are. It simply invites you to keep growing.”

So, am I an ageing gardener?

Absolutely.

Am I exercising?

Apparently, yes.

And perhaps that's the beauty of gardening as we get older.

We don't have to stop growing just because we're getting older.

We simply learn how to grow at our own pace.

And if we finish the day with a few aching muscles?

Well...

That's what the ibuprofen is for. 😉

Your Turn

What does your garden gym look like?

Do you find yourself squatting to pull weeds, stretching to reach fruit, carrying bags of soil—or making emergency sprints when one of your garden visitors decides to make an appearance?

Tell me about it in the comments.

Let's see how many of us have been getting our exercise without ever stepping inside a gym!

Until next time, keep growing, keep moving and, most importantly, keep getting your hands dirty.

Grey hair, green thumb and proud of my roots. 

thegreyhairedgardener.blogspot.com

https://www.pinterest.com/thegreyhairedgardener

I Planted Seime. Seime Had Other Plans.

Have you ever planted a vegetable and then watched it behave as though you had given it permission to take over the entire garden?

Well... meet seime.(pronounced "same")

Here in Trinidad and Tobago, we call it seime. You may know it as hyacinth bean or lablab bean.

And if you have ever grown it, you will probably understand exactly what I mean when I say:

Seime is not a shy plant.

This was my seime vine in its glory — leaves everywhere, flowers popping up and pods hanging down.

It climbed, spread, filled every available space and generally behaved as though the garden belonged to it.

And honestly?

I didn't mind.

Because once seime gets going, it can be one very generous crop.

But Which Seime?

Here's something I find interesting about seime: there isn't just one type.

There are several varieties available locally, and gardeners often have their favourites.

Sometimes the preference is simply a matter of colour — the colour of the young pods.

Sometimes it's the shape of the pod.

And sometimes it's just what your family has always grown and eaten.

You might ask someone which seime they prefer and get a very definite answer!

“No, no... THAT one is the good one.”

And of course, every gardener is convinced their favourite is the best. 😂

That's part of what makes growing traditional vegetables so interesting. We don't just grow varieties because they're listed in a catalogue. We often have preferences that have been shaped by taste, appearance, cooking qualities and years of experience.

First Come the Flowers

Before all those pods appear, you get the flowers.

Close-up of the seime blossoms

The flowers grow along long flowering stems, tucked among all those leaves.

And then, if you look closely, you'll see something else happening.

Tiny pods are beginning to form.

PHOTO: Flowering stem showing tiny developing pods

This is one of my favourite things about growing vegetables — watching the transition from flower to food.

One day you're looking at flowers.

Then suddenly...

There are beans.

From Tiny Pods to Harvest

The little pods continue to develop along the flowering stems.

PHOTO: Developing pod

And this is where you have to keep an eye on your vine if you want tender seime.

The young pods are what I like to harvest, so I found myself checking the plants regularly and picking every day or two.

Leave them too long and they become more mature and fibrous.

Pick them young and tender, and there is always another harvest coming along behind them.

And when you have a productive vine, you don't just get one or two.

You get plenty.

And Plenty Is Exactly What You Get

PHOTO: Pods ready for harvest

This is the stage when I start harvesting.

And here's one of the things I really like about seime:

It keeps giving.

You harvest today.

You go back tomorrow or the next day.

And there are more pods waiting.

For a home gardener, that can be a very good thing.

Especially when your vegetable garden is also your pantry.

The Crop That Is Made for Sharing

PHOTO:  Harvested pods 

There is, however, one little problem with a really productive seime vine.

You can't eat all of it yourself.

Well, perhaps you can. But I certainly couldn't!

And that's when seime becomes one of those wonderful sharing crops.

There are enough pods to cook for your household and still have plenty left to give to family, friends or neighbours.

I think that is one of the nicest things about growing food.

Not every harvest has to be measured by how much you keep.

Sometimes a successful harvest is the one that makes you say,

“Let me put some aside for somebody else.”

And How Do I Cook My Seime?

I photographed the vine.

I photographed the flowers.

I photographed the developing pods.

I photographed the harvest.

I photographed everything .......even the cooked seime!😂

I like my young seime pods steamed gently over low heat with tomatoes.

Young seime pods steamed gently over low heat with tomatoes, served with hot sada roti, Yum! 😃

And when I want to make it even better?

A little coconut milk.

That's my kind of garden-to-table cooking.

Simple ingredients. Nothing fancy. Just a vegetable from the garden cooked in a way that lets it shine.

And really, isn't that what home gardening is all about?

Growing something with your own hands...

walking outside to pick it...

and then putting it on the table.

A Crop Worth Remembering

The seime season has already come and gone in my garden this year.

I missed my chance to write about it while the vine was producing.

But luckily, I remembered to take photographs.

And looking back through them reminded me just how much I enjoyed growing this crop.

Seime is vigorous.

It is productive.

It needs regular harvesting if you want tender young pods.

And if it likes where you planted it, be prepared — it may decide that your entire garden is its personal climbing frame.

But perhaps my favourite thing about seime is that there is usually enough to share.

And that's something I will always appreciate about growing food.

 A Little Garden Wisdom

“The best harvest isn't always the one you bring into your own kitchen. Sometimes it's the one you have enough to share.”

So tell me...

Do you grow seime?

And more importantly — how does your family cook it?

Do you steam it? Cook it with tomatoes? Add coconut milk? Or do you have a completely different way of preparing it?

I'd love to hear how other gardeners and home cooks prepare this wonderfully generous little bean.

Because some of the best gardening knowledge isn't found in a book.

It's passed from one kitchen, one garden and one generation to the next.

Until next time, keep growing, keep learning, and keep sharing the harvest.

Grey hair, green thumb and proud of my roots.

thegreyhairedgardener.blogspot.com

https://www.pinterest.com/thegreyhairedgardener

The Sunflower Thief and What Ma Taught Me About Asking 🌻

 “If you want something, ask for it. You might be surprised by how much you get.”   — Something Ma always taught us

I went into my front yard this morning and discovered that someone had stolen my sunflower.

Not the whole plant.

Just the head.

The evidence left behind: one sunflower stalk, no flower head, and a very unhappy gardener. 😩

And this wasn't just any sunflower. It was huge!  I wish I had taken a photo of it with my hand beside the flower head so you could see just how big it was.

This is another sunflower in my yard, just beginning to open. The one that was stolen was much further along—and much, much bigger!

 Another flower, now beginning to lose its petals 

I started it from seed and had been watching it grow and was patiently waiting for the seeds to mature so I could save them for planting.

Well… somebody apparently wasn't interested in waiting.

They came by sometime during the night, cut off the flower head and took it.

The funny—or rather, not so funny—part is that the seeds weren't mature yet. So whoever stole it probably didn't even get what they wanted. Those immature seeds are unlikely to germinate.

Talk about stealing before the groceries are cooked! 😂

But honestly, I was upset. I was livid. I had been looking forward to saving those seeds and growing more sunflowers.

And this isn't the first time.

The marigold mystery

About a month and a half ago, I planted a whole line of marigolds along the front of the yard.

They were growing nicely and just beginning to form buds.

Then one day I went out to pull weeds and noticed something strange—the holes where my marigolds had been planted.

I was hoping to get dozens of flowers like this one 

I looked around for the plants.

Nothing.

Every single one was gone.

I was devastated.

Standing there this morning looking at that sunflower stalk brought the whole thing back to me—and reminded me of something Ma always used to say:

“If you want something, ask.”

Ma believed that if you asked someone for something they had, you might be surprised by how generous they could be.

Ask for a small cutting and you might get two or three branches.

Ask for two oranges and you might go home with five.

People can be surprisingly generous when you simply give them the chance to share.

But Ma also had a childhood story that taught her the other side of that lesson.

The pineapple punishment

Ma told me that when she was a little girl, she and her brothers went into a neighbour's garden and picked pineapples without permission.

They came home quite happily with their pineapples.

Unfortunately for them, their father—my Grandpa Cyril—was a no-nonsense man.

He wasn't about to give them a little lecture and send them on their way.

Instead, he made each child put a pineapple on their head and walk through the village.

Yes. Pineapple. On the head. Walking through the village.😂🍍

The neighbour apparently thought Grandpa Cyril had been too harsh with the children.

But Ma said that experience stayed with her for the rest of her life.

It taught her a valuable lesson.

She never stole again.

And I suspect that when Ma told us this story as children, there was a little message hidden in it:

“Remember what happened to me? Don't let me catch you doing the same thing.”

She never actually had to threaten us with pineapples on our heads. The story did the job.

Ask. Don't take.

And that's what I keep thinking about when I look at my sunflower.

If the person who wanted that flower had simply asked, things might have turned out very differently.

The seeds weren't ready, but perhaps I could have given them something else. A few seeds when they matured. A cutting. Some flowers.

Because that's what Ma taught us.

Ask.

You might be surprised by what someone is willing to share.

But when you simply take something from someone's garden, you take more than a plant or a flower. You take away the gardener's chance to enjoy it, save its seeds or decide what to do with it.

So if you see something growing in someone else's yard that you'd love to have, remember Ma's advice.

Ask first.

As for me, I'll be planting more sunflowers.

Because one stolen flower isn't going to stop this Grey-Haired Gardener.

Although I may have to keep a closer eye on those seed heads next time.

Apparently, I'm not the only one waiting for them to mature! 😂🌻

What about your garden?

Have you ever had a plant, fruit, flower or cutting taken from your garden without permission?

Or do you have a family story about something your parents or grandparents taught you about sharing, asking or respecting someone else's property?

Drop your story in the comments—and if you have a photo, even better!

And remember:

Ask first. You might be surprised by how much you get. 

Grey hair, green thumb and proud of my roots

thegreyhairedgardener.blogspot.com

https://www.pinterest.com/thegreyhairedgardener

What’s in Season? A Walk Through the Market—and My Garden

The garden has its own calendar—you just have to slow down and notice what’s showing up- The Grey Haired Gardener

Have you ever walked through a market and suddenly realized, “Well, somebody’s fruit tree is certainly having a good year!” 😂

That happened to me recently.

I was walking through the market, looking at the produce, and I started noticing something I always find interesting—what’s in season tells a story.

You don't necessarily need a calendar hanging on the wall to tell you what time of year it is. Sometimes all you have to do is look at what's piled up on the market stalls.

And, of course, I couldn't help comparing what I was seeing with what is happening in my own garden.

Chenette season has arrived!

One of the fruits that caught my eye was Melicoccus bijugatus ... yep , you read that right, aka chenette.😄

Funny enough, I didn't actually need to buy any. My friend, J, dropped some off for me last week. So when I saw them at the market, I had to smile.

There they were again—confirmation that chenette season had arrived!

And isn't that one of the pleasures of living here? Somebody's tree is producing more than they can eat, so a bag of fruit finds its way to a friend, a neighbour or family member.

No fancy packaging. No delivery charge.

Just, “Here, take some.”

And I'm certainly not complaining. 😂

And then I spotted the rambutan...

Rambutan piled high.....spiky on the outside, pure sweetness within.

Red or yellow, rambutan is always a treat…but yellow rambutan wins my vote!

There was rambutan at the market too, and naturally, that caught my attention.

I've had a bit of a history with rambutan.

I planted some seeds years ago and waited.

And waited....and waited.

Eventually, after about eight years, the tree finally flowered.

You would think that after eight years I would have been rewarded with a nice crop of rambutan, wouldn't you?

Well... apparently the tree had other plans.

It flowered, but the tree turned out to be male.

Yes. Male.

After eight years!

Gardening really does teach you patience—and occasionally a few new words that probably shouldn't appear in a gardening blog. 😂

But I wasn't giving up that easily. I planted five more rambutan seedlings, so I'm still waiting to see what the next chapter of that story will bring.

Seeing rambutan at the market reminded me that fruit trees are definitely a long game.

Sometimes you plant today for a harvest that belongs to a future version of yourself.

And sometimes that future version of yourself has to deal with a male rambutan tree.

But that's gardening!

What else is showing up?

As I walked around the market, I saw several other fruits and produce that made me stop and take notice.

It reminded me that seasonality in the Caribbean isn't always as neat as the charts make it seem.

We have our general seasons, of course, but weather, rainfall, location, the variety of the plant and even the individual tree can all make a difference.

One person's mango tree may be loaded while another person's is still sitting there looking at you as if it has absolutely no intention of producing anything this year.

And if you've been gardening for a while, you know exactly what I mean. 😂

That's one of the things I enjoy about markets. They give us a little snapshot of what is happening across people's gardens, backyards and farms.

And then there's my garden...

Of course, I couldn't walk through the market without thinking about my own plants.

Peewah is plentiful this season—this bunch glows bright orange to red, though I’ve also seen some pure yellow bunches with quite large fruits.

Photo: Shamela Rambadan

I have a young peewah plant that is about two years old. It's nowhere near ready to join the market crowd yet, but seeing peewah being sold reminded me that, with fruit trees, patience really is part of the deal.

Two years can feel like a long time when you're waiting for a fruit tree to do something.

Then again, I have learned that plants have absolutely no interest in our schedules.

They grow when they're ready.

My carambola, on the other hand, is currently doing its bit to keep me supplied. And that's another lovely thing about growing some of your own food—you get to experience the seasons from your own backyard.

Carambola season again! My tree is heavy with fruit, and it never fails to produce several crops each year.

Photo: Shamela Rambadan

Instead of simply seeing a fruit appear on a market stall, you notice the flowers first.

Then the tiny fruits.

Then you check them every few days.

And eventually you find yourself saying, “Okay, I think these are ready now!”

And sometimes you discover that the birds have already made that decision for you. 😂

What's in season in your garden?

I think that's why I enjoy asking gardeners what is bearing at different times of the year.

The answer isn't always the same.

One garden may have mangoes.

Another may have chenette.

Someone else might have rambutan, carambola, sapodilla, avocado, pommecythere or something I've never even thought about.

And that's the beauty of gardening in the Caribbean. There is always something coming into flower, forming fruit, ripening—or stubbornly refusing to do any of the above until it feels like it. 😂

So the next time you're at the market, take a little look around.

Don't just think about what you're going to buy.

Notice what's there.

It might give you a pretty good idea of what's happening in gardens around you.

And if you grow your own food, pay attention to your own garden too. Your plants have their own seasonal stories to tell.

Now I want to hear from you!

What's bearing in your garden or yard right now?

Are you harvesting something you've been waiting months for? Is your fruit tree suddenly giving you more than you know what to do with? Or perhaps you're still waiting patiently for that young tree to grow up and earn its keep. 😉

Tell me what's in season where you are—and send me a photo if you can!

I'd love to see what's growing in your corner of the Caribbean.

Until next time, keep an eye on what's flowering, fruiting and ripening around you.

Keep growing—your garden (and your confidence) will follow.

Grey hair, green thumb and proud of my roots.

thegreyhairedgardener.blogspot.com

https://www.pinterest.com/thegreyhairedgardener