It started with a seed, and then people all over the country chimed in with sweet stories of their long-lived citrus trees
I love people who love plants.
It’s hardly a revelation. I’ve known it for as long as I’ve been gardening, but nothing says I really love my plants like lugging a potted citrus tree in the house every fall and then lugging it back out every spring — for years, decades, a half-century or more. That’s commitment.
I had no idea there were so many of us.
When I wrote a column in late February as a kind of silly and therapeutic rant about the trials and triumphs of growing a lime and a lemon tree in Wisconsin, I found a kindred spirit in Mark Was of Wauwatosa, who emailed to say he could relate.
Except his story was extraordinary. He and his mom planted his tree from a seed in his breakfast grapefruit when he was in second grade. Sixty-one years later, it’s a member of his family.
He graciously agreed to share his story, and somehow that little ol’ story about his big ol’ grapefruit tree found its way all over the country. I know this, not only because USA TODAY picked it up, but because my inbox has been flooded with emails from people who were touched by his sweet tree tale and had one of their own.
“I thought it was about my grapefruit tree!” one of the emails began. That sentiment was expressed time and again in the notes received.
It turns out there are long-lived potted citrus trees in families and in houses all over the country — each one of them dear to those who lovingly looking after them. The emails came from Montana, Ohio, Wisconsin, New Hampshire, Minnesota, North Carolina, California and on and on. Even one from New Zealand.
If there’s one thing better than a green thumb, it might be a warm and fuzzy green thumb. Some wrote just to say how much they enjoyed “a tender-hearted story in the news” or how much “we need stories like this to keep people enjoying life.”
“I smiled reading this story today,” one reader wrote. “I am 61 years old and have a ficus (weeping fig) tree my grandmother used to own 40 years ago. I have had it with me through college, getting married, 2 children, 4 grandchildren, a previous residence.”
Treasured citrus trees span generations, family FaceTime, group texts
There was an undeniable multigenerational theme to many of the emails. Whether some of those generations know they’re destined to be future keepers of heavy, finicky, beloved trees remains to be seen.
A couple in Kentucky forwarded Was’ story to their grown children, “who grew up with and may one day inherit our 7-foot, 46-year-old grapefruit tree we started from seed in 1977.”
Another reader has the grapefruit tree her dad planted from seed nearly 70 years ago. “We worry over it like a third child,” she wrote. “There's no way we’re parting company in this life, and I suspect one of our daughters will take it when we're gone.”
One man shared the full group text conversation he had with his children when one of them saw the story and immediately thought of his tree. He’s had it since 1965 when he planted a seed he found sprouting inside his morning grapefruit.
Was’ tree is older, one daughter noted, but “Dad’s is more shapely.”
Bill in Grove City, Ohio, has a 19-year-old lemon tree his daughter planted when she was 9. When his oldest daughter spotted Was’ story, they all connected on FaceTime, “talked of memories of the tree, laughed and had a great time.”
Let me just say again, I love people who love plants.
Tips: Tie the tree to the deck railing, watch your backside
Spouses who find themselves sharing indoor living space with a hulking, thorny, leaf-dropping grapefruit tree by no choice of their own chimed in, too, although more humorously.
“What a lovely story! My husband shoved it in my face this morning. He, too, grew grapefruit trees from seed,” wrote Paula from Florida. “Now that you have immortalized and legitimized my husband’s prowess of growing grapefruits with the Was family, I will never hear the end of it.”
There was all kinds of helpful advice for Was.
Somebody suggested he should build a greenhouse for his Wisconsin grapefruit tree. Another thought his tree deserves a name after all these years, something “grand” like Joy or Sunshine. He might want to consider African violet fertilizer. Gail in Michigan swears by it for her lemon tree.
A family in Minnesota with a 55-year-old grapefruit tree their daughter planted from seed wanted him to know they’ve gone through similar “ordeals” with theirs, even going so far as tying it to the deck railing to keep it from tipping over in high winds.
Donald in New Hampshire, who planted his grapefruit tree from seed in 1975, offered a cautionary tale about keeping your distance during winters in the foyer. “My wife and I need to be careful when backing up while vacuuming, so as not to be reminded of its thorny personality.”
More than a few of the grapefruit trees mentioned came from humble beginnings in Dixie cups. One got its start sharing a pot with an avocado tree roommate until it eventually pushed it out. It’s 47 years old now.
In St. Paul, Minnesota, Debora said her husband planted theirs 61 years ago as a Boy Scouts project. Bobby near Minneapolis got his more than 50-plus years ago when his friend in eighth grade moved away and her parents wouldn’t let her take her small tree along.
To fruit or not to fruit, that is the big question
Many readers offered theories and insight on why Was’ tree has never borne any fruit. It needs bees. It needs a girlfriend. It needs to be grafted. An alchemist in Florida offered to send “certain nutritional products that are custom blended.” Another company wanted to send organic fertilizer so amazing it “produced flowers on a hydrangea that had not bloomed in 20 years.”
John Oathout, an avid container citrus grower in Broken Arrow, Oklahoma, offered this helpful explanation:
“Most fruits and vegetables we eat are hybrids and in horticultural terms do not grow true to seed — meaning the seed doesn’t produce the same fruit as the two parent plants — or one that is fruitful at all. This isn’t always the case but is definitely an unknown when growing grocery store-sourced seeds,” he wrote.
“Your best bet in getting fruit-producing citrus is to purchase one from a supplier who has known to produce varieties. The better news is that often these trees have been grafted on dwarf stock so the tree doesn’t get to enormous proportions as they would in nature. A perfect recipe for container-grown citrus.”
While many of those who wrote mentioned that their grapefruit trees don’t bear fruit, Michael of Stamford, Connecticut, is one of the lucky ones. His tree, named Brother, has survived 54 Connecticut winters, thanks to much TLC from his family. Brother has returned the favor by bearing fruit for the last 30 years.
“I am sure it loves us as much as we love it,” he wrote.
Matt in Twin Lake, Michigan, gets enough fruit from his 59-year-old miniature orange tree to make marmalade each year.
I was introduced to Ernie, a 20-something lime tree happy and thorny as can be in a low-humidity log cabin halfway up the side of a snowy mountain in Washington. It “gets a wild hair every February” and produces enough citrus to share with the neighbors.
“They say lime trees are hard to grow, but I guess Ernie is as stubborn as I am. He’s still with me, and I’m still buying band-aids,” wrote Mark. (Ernie’s annual repotting never fails to draw blood.)
I met Bobby, a grapefruit tree now in its 70s. Lisa in Minnesota recently took over care of the tree her dad planted from seed at age 6. Her aunt had looked after him for decades, but it was getting to be too much. Now it’s Lisa’s turn. “I just hope I am not the one who kills it,” she wrote.
Here are a few other trees with deep roots and interesting life journeys.
GT has lived in Wisconsin, Illinois, Connecticut and Virginia but sat out on Hawaii
Jayne Thompson Hart of Fairfax, Virginia, planted her grapefruit tree from seed in 1964 as a graduate student at the University of Wisconsin in Madison. GT (short for grapefruit tree), then a modest 3 feet tall, went with her when she moved to Groton, Connecticut. A year later, her naval officer husband was transferred to Hawaii, a state with strict regulations about importing plants. GT had to stay behind, “temporarily” in the loving care of Thompson Hart's sister in Naperville, Illinois. That stay lasted 40 years.
When her sister died eight years ago, GT didn’t receive the attention to which it was accustomed. It became a twiggy skeleton with sparse, shriveled leaves. So Thompson Hart and her husband went on a rescue mission, brought the tree to their home in Virginia and nursed it back to health. Today, GT is 7 feet tall, 54 years old, happy, healthy, still fruitless and always a conversation piece.
“GT will be passed on to our daughter whom I hope will continue to cherish and care for this special member of the family,” Thompson Hart wrote.
He and his Florida grapefruit tree 'are pretty tough old birds'
Jim in Florida planted his tree 35 years ago when he bought a bag of grapefruits for $1 from a citrus grove in Bradenton at the end of the season. It went from one pot to a bigger pot to a pot so big he could no longer move it. He eventually planted it outside, where it occasionally rewarded him with fruit but also came close to death. Through life’s ups and downs, including midlife depression, that tree has always been there with him.
“We are pretty tough old birds, even though we may not bear fruit anymore,” he wrote.
His miniature orange tree, Rana, hit it big at Frederik Meijer Gardens
Tim of Alto, Michigan, was 13 when he bought a miniature orange tree at a mall outside of Detroit. It followed him along to various apartments and homes all his life. When he remarried eight years ago, the tree wreaked havoc with his wife’s allergies. He asked Frederik Meijer Gardens & Sculpture Park in Grand Rapids if they might take it.
“So, in 2015, we strapped it into a trailer and schlepped it down there. They still have it. My friends check on her whenever they visit the gardens. She’s doing fine,” he wrote. “I named her Rana, a diminutive for the Spanish word for ‘orange.’”
Rana is 58 years old and grows many tiny oranges similar to kumquats.
Dad says: Come and get your grapefruit tree or it's a goner in Chicago
Lisa in Glencoe, Illinois, planted her breakfast grapefruit seed when she was 9. Years later, she remembers getting a call from her dad one fall to let her know he was done hauling her tree in and out of the house. If she didn’t come get it, it would meet its death in the Chicago winter. She rented a U-Haul and brought it home (much to her husband’s dismay). Each spring, her son and son-in-law help wheel it out on the front porch.
“I love this tree,” she writes. “It reminds me of my dad and my childhood. Besides, I'm superstitious. I'm afraid if the tree goes, it would be a bad omen for me!”
Grab a seed and a Dixie cup and plant a family tradition
It was uplifting to read all the emails. Sometimes it’s the simple things that resonate the most. Who knew it would be the tree in the corner?
Maybe when the world seems spinning out of control, we hold on tight to our citrus trees, thorns and all.
Maybe one of these stories will inspire parents to plant a random seed in a pot with their child and grow a tree that may never produce fruit but will reward them with something even better — a unique family tradition and a lifetime of memories.
Maybe someday, decades from now, someone will write about the lemon tree Mary’s grandson started from seed. It’s 4 inches and counting. “Who knows what will happen,” she wrote.
That is the beauty of gardening. It's also why I love people who love plants.
Kendra Meinert is an entertainment and feature writer at the Green Bay Press-Gazette. Contact her at 920-431-8347 or kmeinert@greenbay.gannett.com. Follow her on Twitter @KendraMeinert.
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This article originally appeared on Green Bay Press-Gazette: People and their potted citrus trees share a bond that lasts decades
