The purloined Poncirius has made fruit for the first time. I could be pleased, but I am not.

This is a cautionary tale for all you seed stealers out there. Be careful what you wish for. When you get it, it may cause pain.

This is all my fault. I saw the Poncirius trifoliata at an undisclosed plantation. I was fascinated by its long green thorns. It is a plant nobody will mess with.

I carefully picked a small, fuzzy yellow fruit and stored it in an undisclosed location on my person. The fruit was forgotten until bedtime. It rolled across the floor as I was switching into pajamas.

The fruit went home. The seeds were saved, then carefully planted in pots. The plants grew quickly. I planted two in the ground to see if they would survive our winters in zone 7.

The two hardy shrubs are taller than I am. They are lovely with dense foliage. This could be the end, but there is a dark secret. Poncirius trifoliata can be invasive.

I told myself it could not happen here. I was wrong. I know of two giant shrubs of  Poncirius/Citrus trifoliata beside Highway 321 past Lenoir. That is zone 6. I cannot trust these two to stay put. I cannot allow the fruit to get loose.

These shrubs are nicknamed Flying dragons. The fruit is hardy orange or bitter orange. It is deer resistant, but that will not save it.

I picked all the fuzzy, little oranges and took them in. There was bleeding involved as usual. This is the meanest plant I have ever had.

I will not sadden you with my plans for the two trees. I must be responsible. This fruit produces a formidible foe that must be contained.

I fell in love with its dangerous thorns, stole its usless fruit, sacrificed my blood while caring for it. I don’t have a lick of sense when it comes to plants.

FLOW