Pear branches hang heavy. Plum tree beams purple with fruit. Husband propped apple limbs weeks ago. Raspberries reach to the sky. A second peach tree promises another canning session soon and good eating out of hand.

A fruitful year.

But you never know.

Last year, on the trees? Nothing. Year before, nothing. Year before that, next to nothing.

Off years alternate with bearing years, and sharp frost in late spring brings death to blossoms, and fruit crops to nil.

I look and hope.

Little or much, He brings what I need, holds back what is meet.

But to see fruit…

I look and hope.