Gratitude Monday: This fruit doth make my soul to thrive

Unlike the fir, the holly and the ivy, the citrus is decidedly not evergreen. (TBH, ivy is actually bloody near indestructible. Come Armageddon, it will indubitably rule with cockroaches over the blasted hellscape that planet Earth becomes.) As I discovered earlier this year when the February freezes torched my three potted citrus trees, despite me wrapping the bases in bubble wrap.

So, this Spring I bought three new trees—a lime and two lemons. I fortified them against the scourge of rampaging chipmunks, but knew I needed to do something about Winter. 

When my neighbors moved to Seattle, I liberated their three very large pots (no pix, sorry) and repotted two of the trees; my gardenia in a larger container than the trees has weathered about seven winters, so… But around the end of October, I began looking for reinforcement solutions. I could move the smaller pot indoors, but not the larger two.

I mentioned this to a friend in the UK, and she had a suggestion:

Friend: What about garden fleece—would that work?

Me: Garden fl—wut?

But, dear reader—garden fleece is indeed a thing; I ordered some online and then draped it double-strength around both, using clothespins to secure it. I also brought back the chicken wire enclosure for one of them, because I saw Scooter the chipmunk sizing it up.

We’ve had quite the range of temperatures in the past couple of weeks—from high 50s to the teens—but so far, it looks like my little trees are surviving. One has some frostburned leaves, but most of it seems healthy.

(The indoor one started flowering after I brought it inside. I mentioned that to my English friend, all happy about getting lemons, and she asked, “How about pollination?” Me: “Pollin—wut?” So, as per online wisdom, I hand-pollinated, and I may get a few lemons.)

This is my gratitude for today. It’s so hard to grow anything in my backyard, because the only time it gets any sun is after all the deciduous trees have lost their leaves. I’m filled with joy by these three potted pals, and by the reminder that we can withstand some big things, when we have help.

I can find no Christmas songs about citrus, but here’s one about the apple tree. The text for “Jesus Christ the Apple Tree” dates from the 18^th Century, a poem probably written by a “Calvinist Baptist” (later known as “Methodist”) preacher, Richard Hutchins. It’s been set to music by several composers, including the ubiquitous John Rutter.

Using the metaphor of the apple tree for Christ may reference the creation story in Genesis, or it could reflect New Testament depictions of Jesus as the Tree of Life. Then there’s the pre-Christian British custom of going out among fruit orchards around the Winter Solstice to offer (and drink) libations to awaken the trees for their Spring duties.

(I wrote before about this custom in a post about wassail, which got merged into Christmas, as things often do.)

I personally love the image, especially in the dead of Winter, and doubly-especially in this ghastly year. We need to remember that—despite our best human efforts to the contrary—nature will do her best to bounce back, and life will triumph over death.

Besides, apples make great pies.

The lyrics are so powerful that I think it worthwhile to set them out for you:

The tree of life my soul hath seen,
Laden with fruit and always green;
The trees of nature fruitless be,
Compared with Christ the Apple Tree.

His beauty doth all things excel,
By faith I know but ne'er can tell
The glory which I now can see,
In Jesus Christ the Appletree.

For happiness I long have sought,
And pleasure dearly I have bought;
I missed of all but now I see
'Tis found in Christ the Appletree.

I'm weary with my former toil -
Here I will sit and rest awhile,
Under the shadow I will be,
Of Jesus Christ the Appletree.

With great delight I’ll make my stay,
There’s none shall fright my soul away;
Among the sons of men I see
There’s none like Christ the Appletree.

I’ll sit and eat this fruit divine,
It cheers my heart like spirit’al wine;
And now this fruit is sweet to me,
That grows on Christ the Appletree.

This fruit doth make my soul to thrive,
It keeps my dying faith alive;
Which makes my soul in haste to be
With Jesus Christ the Appletree.

I am eschewing Rutter and giving you a version set to music by Elizabeth Poston, a 20^th-Century English composer. Here it’s performed by a group called Seraphic Fire. 

©2025 Bas Bleu