There is a small olive tree in our back garden. I bought it as a reminder of our trips to southern Europe. It was exotic and I think it cost only fifteen pounds. Last year I re-potted it to give it a bit more room; I gave it some fresh soil and pinched out some of the tips. Since then it is flourished. I’ve gone a bit Monty Don and I am pleased with its progress.
Yesterday when I was at garden centre there was an old and gnarled olive tree. They said that it was four hundred years old and were asking just under a thousand pounds for it. The trees have such character and beauty that only comes with age. Their bark tells so many tales.
Their tree wasn’t much bigger than mine though its girth was much wider. That’s another thing that comes with old age.
For those of you who are interested I think that turning fifteen pounds into a thousand pounds over four hundred years is the equivalent of a compound interest rate of just over one per cent (1.06%). Of course olive trees bear fruit which has a value but I have not been able to add this to my calculations. So far our tree has borne very little in the way of fruit. We are not holding out for a dry martini at any time soon.
So some plants shoot up while others take their time. Some plants are all flash with big blousy flowers that glow like a super nova only to fade just as quickly. Others are more subtle, understated and seem to last for ever.
Our olive tree reminds me that some things of value just take time. A lot of time.
I am now at nine hundred and forty two in the list of bloggers in the a-to-zchallenge.