Apricot jam, at last

The old apricot tree produced just enough fruit to make some jam, and this week's market haul.

The first time I walked into this house, the stone steps leading from the garden to the front door were covered in the black, rotted corpses of apricots. It made me sad to think of this old tree flowering, fruiting, unseen and unloved, its golden bounty left to rot. In my extensive checklist of symptoms of neglect, this one was the most melancholy.

In th…