Her Best Tree

My mother-in-law plants trees. I love that about her. She propagates oaks and sycamores. She grows citrus, avocado, and macadamia trees, and a garden of native plants. She tends to things.

The other day as I was walking past the orchard, she asked me if I would like a grapefruit.

"Of course," I said.

She handed me a couple. They had heft.

"You know you can pick these any time," she said.

I don't know why I don't. Whenever I taste them, tart, and refreshing, and utterly delicious, I realize they're exactly what I've been craving.

She stepped back and looked up at the tree with satisfaction, even a bit of pride.

She's a tiny, white-haired lady, 89 years old, in a baseball cap and sneakers.

"That's my best tree," she said.

I noticed it as though for the first time. It's astonishingly leafy and green and symmetrical, reaching out wide from its small sturdy trunk, and almost always laden with fruit. It's luckily positioned in terms of soil and water, even in these days of stress and drought.

It is a handsome tree. Productive, too.

Sometimes I take so much for granted. I walk by wonders without a second thought.

Yes, my mother-in-law plants trees, and it's one of the things I love about her.

I didn't even know she had favorites.