I know it's lewd, but it's how I feel every time I pull in the driveway. It always starts with a quick look to make sure that the three lavender plants are continuing to thrive despite the heat, followed with a longer look at the blueberries to see if the berries are still there or bigger (or, god forbid, smaller), and, finally, bringing the car to a complete stop at the the pear tree, a.k.a. the booty tree. A long moment to check the tree over to see if it still looks good, if it is showing signs of blight (like the tree in middle of the yard) or needs a little extra water, all the while feeling like I am being mooned by 25 little pear booties. 25 little pear booties that continue to get fatter and fatter. 25 little pear booties that hold promises of pear preserves in September. Luckily, the pear tree next to the driveway has shown little signs of blight. The tree in the yard is pitiful this year. At the beginning of the season, it was filled with little baby pears. Now, we've had to clip and snip for weeks trying to keep the damage from the blight to a minimum. I'd usually cull a few pears off of both trees in and effort to help the pears mature faster. Yet, I can't bring myself to lose a single little pear booty.
We thought that we'd lost the pears on the tree in the yard. Jesse discovered 4 little ninja pears on it this afternoon when he went out to count the pears on the good tree.