This year, it was truly sweet.

In a corner of the garden,
for the first time in several years, our apricot tree quietly
bore small fruits.

They say apricots have the power to heal people.

Perhaps that is why.
Long ago, a famous Chinese doctor had people plant apricot trees instead of paying for medical treatment,
and eventually, a warm forest was born in the village,
a story known as 'Kyorin' (Apricot Forest) that remains to this day.

Come to think of it, the first year it bore fruit after I came here,
I was convinced it was a plum.
Even when I picked them and spread them out on a colander, there was no scent.

Are there plums that have no scent?

As I was tilting my head in wonder,
a customer at the cafe said,

'What beautiful apricots...'

Huh, apricots?

It is embarrassing to admit,
but until that moment, I had believed without a doubt that they were plums.

It doesn't bear fruit every year,
this whimsical tree of ours.
When I tasted it before,
it was sharply sour.

Now, what shall I do with them this year?
Should I make syrup,
or jam?
No, a compote sounds good too.
Yes, I'll make a compote this year.

I stand in the kitchen, take out the sugar, and put water on the stove.
On a whim,
before putting them in the pot, I popped one into my mouth.

—Sweet.

This year's apricots are surprisingly sweet.
The pleasant tartness that follows from deep within
is also comforting.

I'll stop putting them on the fire.
Without processing them at all,
eating them raw just like this is best.

A fleeting luxury that the clumsy tree took its time to ripen.

The freshly picked sweetness,
like medicine gently working on an old person's heart,
quietly heals my soul.

Thinking they were plums, memories of sourness cross my mind; as I eat, a single sweet apricot.

Thinking they were plums, memories of sourness cross my mind;
as I eat, a single sweet apricot.