No room for an orchard? Then try a fruit tree hedge

Flower & Garden Magazine, Feb-March, 1993 by Mimi Luebberman

A novice gardener's mad gamble against professional advice has triumphed with buckets and buckets of fruit.

I HAD COME TO THE GARDEN CENter to buy an orchard. The long, bare flower bed behind my house seemed perfect for a line of standard-size fruit trees. A new homeowner, I envisioned my small back yard abloom in spring with blossoming fruit trees.

The busy nursery was filled with late-winter shoppers looking for bargains among the bare-root trees and shrubs. I strolled up and down the aisles looking at the different varieties of fruit trees. A friendly nurseryman inquired whether I needed help.

I explained that I had a south-facing bed, and that I intended to plant a row of fruit trees. He raised his eyebrows and asked how much room I had to plant. I responded that my space was 32 feet long, fitting between a deck and an evergreen laurel. I wanted the fruit trees to screen the unattractive view of the rental property next door.

The nurseryman suggested I buy one tree. I was aghast. Where was my vision of a long season of picking fragrant fruit, warmed by the sun? I asked him why just one tree. He patiently explained that fruit trees grow very large, and that they have to be planted on 12-foot centers, 24 feet apart. Because of my limited space, I really had no choice but to plant a single tree. He suggested a plum because it wouldn't grow too large and wouldn't need a pollinator to bear fruit. I left, one very unhappy gardener.

When I got home, I pulled out my gardening books and read about fruit trees. Sure enough, they all specified a minimum spacing of 24 feet for standard fruit trees to accommodate their spreading crowns and maximize fruit production. Crowded trees shade each other and are more prone to disease, the books said.

Discouraged but determined, I went to the library and read everything I could about fruit trees. Finally, in a book on English gardening, I found a description of a fruit tree hedge. The trees were planted close together; they were not espaliered, but carefully pruned.

I went out to my yard and measured again. I decided to plant four trees, the first 3 feet from the corner of the deck, and the others just 8 feet apart. I knew it was a gamble, but I decided that if worst came to worst, I would cut down one of the trees and solve pollination problems with grafting.

Having decided to rebel against the best of horticultural experience, I had to decide which kind of trees to plant. I knew that I wanted a variety of fruit producing leisurely over the summer. I decided on a 'Satsuma' plum, two apples and a pear. When I went back to the nursery, I was advised to buy a 'Bartlett' pear, and apples 'Red Delicious' and 'Golden Delicious,' the most suitable varieties for my San Francisco Bay area climate.

I planted the plum next to the deck, knowing that when grown, it would be the smallest tree. Next, I put in the 'Golden Delicious' followed by the 'Red Delicious.' The 'Bartlett' pear was last in line, neighbored by the laurel.

What started as a mad gamble against professional advice has triumphed. Some 20 years later, I have had the joy and satisfaction of proving the experts wrong. Looking at my fruit tree hedge, I realize that my scheme worked even better than I had ever imagined. The pleasure of doing the undoable has given me a double reward of vindication along with the buckets and buckets of fruit.

First, the plum blooms with delicate just-pink blossoms and the first fragrance of spring. The July fruits are dark red inside and out, wonderful as jam, in cobblers and upside-down cakes, as canned fruit, and simply delicious just plucked from the tree. The branches hang over the deck, and everyone strolls out to carefully choose the plum most to his or her liking.

The pears come in August, picked hard and ripened in the larder or refrigerator. These, too, are simply superb as dessert with cheese, poached, or just eaten fresh. At the same time, the 'Golden Delicious' start as tart green cooking apples, and finish golden in October as the most sumptuous snack treat. People marvel about them. The insipid, long-stored supermarket 'Golden Delicious' have ruined the reputation of the real thing, gently ripened on the tree and picked just before eating. The 'Red Delicious' apples start in September, and there are still some on the tree for Halloween.

I have never had to spray my trees. I thank the blessed northern California climate, but I also am a believer in the balance of nature, and I am pleased to say that in my garden this belief has been justified. Some years there have been infestations of moths on the apples or leaf curl on the plum. Instead of spraying, I just paid extra attention to the trees' moisture and fertilizer needs, and I mulched with homemade compost mixed with bloodmeal and bonemeal.

There is work to this magically productive hedge. The worst for me has been the job of severe pruning. Wood must be cut out every year to control the growth of the hedge, both for the aesthetics of a gently balanced hedge and for healthy trees. Every spring, as the ladder sways, I am reminded that pruning fruit trees takes not just a sharp saw but also a good deal of skill. I try to remove limbs that cross or rub against each other within each tree, and to balance the growth between the trees.