A row of little trees has taken up residence in my backyard. There they stand, lined up in their pots, tucked in between the deck and the cellar entrance. Twenty-three of them to be exact: twenty apples and three pears, all freshly grafted this past March.
Grafting is not an exact science with guaranteed results. At last glance, it appears that one graft has failed, and two others look questionable. That's not half bad, actually, when you do the math.
Most grafters gun for 95 percent success, and feel happy with 90 percent. If those two questionable grafts fail, I'm looking at 87 percent that's awfully close to 90 percent. If they surprise me and grow, that rate jumps to the coveted 95 percent.
Surprises are pretty common, too. One of the pears pushed buds much too early, within the first week after grafting, long before the graft had a chance to knit the scion and rootstock together.
Of course the buds stalled and began drying out, a sure sign of a failed graft. Somehow, they both started growing again, a week ago. All I can say is these things want to live.
Even if some of the grafts should fail, the rootstocks typically survive and throw shoots of their own. In fact, that's why there's such an odd number of trees. I had three pear stocks from failed grafts held over from last year.
I don't know why, but I usually have low success with pear grafts, even though pears are supposed to be easy to graft. This year, that doesn't seen to apply; it appears that all three grafts are taking.
Most of those trees aren't even for me. I only need one tree, to fill a hole in my four-tree mini-orchard. This fall, I'll need to choose between an apple and three Asian pears to fill it in, assuming they all take. That's a "problem" I'm glad to have!
That leaves 19 trees. If they're not for me, then what are they for, you ask? Ten of them are for the Backyard Fruit Growers, to be sold at a local Herb Faire, hosted by Landis Valley Museum. Each year, I graft ten trees to donate to our Speakers' Fund.
This year I grafted five Paradise Sweet apples, and five Westfield-Seek-No-Further apples. I love that name, Westfield-Seek-No-further. One of the Westfields is the failed graft, but the rootstock is breaking bud, so at least it will survive.
The other nine are part of a rescue effort, to preserve the remaining three ancient trees of a centenarian orchard in Berkshire County PA. They are three each of Winesap, Jonathan, and a Red Delicious 'unlike any you'll find in the store,' according to the owner.
I know, grafting isn't something just everybody does. That's okay; we all have some hobby or skill that is different from the norm. Do you graft? Spin or weave? Breed unusual animals? Wildcraft? I'd love to hear about it!
Photos property of Andrew Weidman.
Melissa, as scary as learning to graft may seem, it’s actually pretty simple. Google ‘whip-and-tongue grafty’ and ‘cleft graft.’ Read a tutorial or two. Watch a few YouTube videos (every grafter has their own style). Practice cutting and joining with fresh apple prunings until you’re comfortable grafting. You may be able to find a grafting workshop near you next March, filled with people eager to help you learn. And don’t worry. Unless your tree is actively dying, you have time. I wasn’t kidding when I said these things want to live. I’ve seen ancient trees, hollowed out shells of their former glory, still growing slowly and bearing a few fruit each year. Keep your knife sharp, and good luck! I’d love to hear your story when you’re done!
Melissa, as scary as learning to graft may seem, it’s actually pretty simple. Google ‘whip-and-tongue grafty’ and ‘cleft graft.’ Read a tutorial or two. Watch a few YouTube videos (every grafter has their own style). Practice cutting and joining with fresh apple prunings until you’re comfortable grafting. You may be able to find a grafting workshop near you next March, filled with people eager to help you learn. And don’t worry. Unless your tree is actively dying, you have time. I wasn’t kidding when I said these things want to live. I’ve seen ancient trees, hollowed out shells of their former glory, still growing slowly and bearing a few fruit each year. Keep your knife sharp, and good luck! I’d love to hear your story when you’re done!
Melissa, as scary as learning to graft may seem, it’s really a simple skill. Google ‘whip-and-tongue graft’ and ‘cleft graft’. Read a tutorial or two. Watch a few YouTube videos (every grafter has their own style). Practice cutting and joining with fresh prunings until you feel comfortable grafting. You may be able to find a grafting workshop in your area next winter or spring, filled with people eager to help you learn. And don’t worry, unless the tree is rapidly dying, you still have time. I’ve seen ancient apple trees, hollowed out shells, still growing and bearing a few fruit each year. Keep your knife sharp and good luck! I’d love to hear how you do!
Melissa, as scary as grafting may seem, learning to graft is pretty simple. Google ‘ehip-and-tongue graft’ and ‘cleft graft’. Read a step-by-step of each, then watch a few youtube tutorials (each grafter has their iwn style), then practice on prunings until you feel comfortable with it. You may slso be able to find a grafting workshop in your area, udually in March. Thryll be full of people more than happy yo help you. Keep your knife sharp, and best of luck! Id live to hear how you do in the future!
Melissa, grafting really isn’t hard to do; you just need practice. That and a scary-sharp knife. Search ‘whip-and-tongue graft’ and ‘cleft graft’ online. Read a tutorial, watch a few YouTube videos on the subject ( every grafter has their own style), and practice making grafts on fresh prunings. When you’re ready, give it a try. You may be able to find a grafting workshop in your area in early spring., filled with people more than happy to help you learn. You’ll never regret it!
I've never grafted before, but have an OLD apple tree in the orchard that I would love to try to save. What tips do you have?