When it comes to planting cold-sensitive fruit trees, I'm pretty much fearless (synonyms: foolhardy, nutcase, soon parted from his money). I've planted several just in case it never freezes again here at my spread four miles from the coast.
Actually, the process is that I tell myself I'll keep it in a container, and just haul it into the garage during freezes. But after a while, I decide that it's better for it to experience freedom, even if short-lived, than to live forever imprisoned. The extra work of container plantings, especially large, heavy ones, might also have something to do with it.
So back in April of 2014, I optimistically bought a wax jambu at the Sarasota club's tree sale. Over the summer it grew vigorously, and I moved it up to a 7-gallon pot. It flourished over the no-winter winter, even growing some more, and it was using so much water that I thought about moving it up yet again. But heck, let's put it in the ground.
Getting fruit was a long shot anyway, so might as well plant it in a shady but warm location. I had just pulled out a couple of palmettos next to a young oak tree in the canopied part of our property, and there it went.
This happened early in this past February, when it seemed like winter had been canceled for the year. Only two weeks later came the plunge of '15. I protected the new planting with a freeze cloth, but the temperature didn't drop to freezing there anyway.
Come spring, there were actually a few flower buds on little Waxie. Gradually they bloomed and dropped off, but at least getting a few blooms was encouraging.
After that, the welcome spring rains took care of a lot of my watering tasks, and I didn't see much of Waxie. Until a week ago Saturday, when my eye caught something pink under a ground-hugging branch:
Now the plot thickens [ominous music starts up in the background]. I decided to give it another day. Sunday it looked a bit pinker. Should be about perfect on Monday.
I don't have to tell you that on Monday [crescendo of dissonant music], there was nothing but an empty branch. Yep, waited one day too long to harvest perhaps my only wax jambu fruit ever.
Sigh. Well, cheer up, it's mango season! As I started away, there was another flash of pink--- eight feet up in the oak tree. Three-quarters of the missing fruit, where a bushy-tailed marauder must have left it. I took this photo, then knocked down the ravaged prize. The peel at the blossom end was eaten off, along with part of one side.