Purloined Fruit to Unwanted Fruit

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.

Ponciriu/Citrus trifoliata: Flying dragon

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.

Poncirius trifoliata with bitter, hardy oranges.

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

The Pointy Poncirius

I went home this past weekend to switch out some of my cold-weather clothes for some warm-weather clothes and to do some plant maintenance. Things went well even though I did sustain three injuries. Two of these involved my mean plants.
Mr. Flower tried to assist and supervise but things happened if he turned his back. This is how it goes when you lose yourself in your work. Injuries are expected. Supervision is needed.

The finger that got smashed was the same one that I trimmed the tip off of years ago. I always receive a souvenier from my cacti when I get near them. I do remove the outer tips from the Century plant’s lowest leaves, which are also dangerous. My worst injury came from the meanest plant in the yard, Poincerius trifoliata.

I deserve this stab as punishment for purloining one of the fruits from a southern plantation and smuggling it out in my brazier. The little bitter orange was forgotten until that night when it rolled across the floor of the hotel room while I was changing into pajamas.

These are technically deciduous shrubs, but send up long sucker shoots which need managing. Also, the center needs to be cleared enough to allow airflow through it. These plants can be used as a formidable hedge and the fruit can be made into marmalade if enough sugar is added to mellow the bitter.

I dressed for battle in double gloves and my Pawpaw’s old hunting jacket with a squirrel pocket in the back. It is made of thick canvas. Mr. Flower has suggested a hard hat for next year’s trimming.

Pointy Poncirius trifoliata

I was innocently butchering the shrub by the fish pond when I was mercilessly stabbed in the head. It did hurt, but I continued on with my work like a good little warrior.

The long limbs must be chopped up to burn if not carefully placed out of the way to be used as a fence. The thorns can penetrate a tire. Its nickname is Flying Dragon. I should have been discouraged by this name, but I am a fool.

Some thorns are over 3 inches long.

No one realized I was injured until I turned around to speak to my husband and neighbor. They both gasped. A picture was taken. Then Mr. Flower decided to take over the clippers for the next shrub, which is on a bank.

This shrub cannot be trusted.

We carefully arranged the removed sucker shoots around two hydrangeas which get eaten down to the ground every spring by our hungry deer herd. One hydrangea is pink and the other is blue. I have not seen a bloom on either in years.

Blooms may mean fruit.

There is one new development with the Poncirius. It is blooming for the first time. This makes things complicated. You see the fruit might fall or be carried off and the seeds may germinate. This pointy plant can become a pest in the south. I am surprised at my biologist self for bringing it home. I intended to keep them in pots, but they got too big and mean to bring in.

Mean

People tend to make their own problems. I know what I must do eventually. But this year, I just want to see if it will make those cute little bitter oranges. Don’t judge!

BLOODY FLOW

Only Thorns: No Blooms nor Fruit

Does this sound like a shrub you could love?
I have grown two small trees/shrubs of Poncirius trifoliata from seeds. I purloined the fruit from a Chinese bitter orange tree during a trip to Charleston years ago.

It’s the thorns that got me.

I did not covet it for its fruit nor its blooms. It was its thorns that captivated me.

Poncirius trifoliata thorns


Here is a little tree that can take care of itself. No forager is going to steal its fruit!


I know it can be invasive. I know it is a touch-me-not plant. I do not care if it ever blooms or produces fuzzy, little bitter oranges. I would never make marmalade anyway!

Poncirius: A plant not to be petted.
Not invasive since no fruit…yet.

I love it because it has unmistakable, impenetrable, unapologetic bounderies. This plant screams DO NOT MESS WITH ME!

That is why I love it.

FLOW