Not a quince

When I first took on the small allotment, I was intrigued about the identity of the tiny tree which greets people as they enter.  It matched the tiny shed very well.  I was hoping it would be a quince, as I started to tend one that bows over my boundary on my long allotment, before I realised it was maintained by somebody else. 

However, now it is blooming, its true identity is revealed.  It is a child of the large plum tree nearby,  having grown up from its roots.  In fact there is a whole line of them stretching accross the allotments, so you can trace where the parent root is under the ground.  This plum tree has the most delicious plums I have ever tasted in the summer.  I gorged myself on them in a quite shameful manner last year.  It was a compulsion  - one was never enough, and I would reach to dangerous heights, balanced precariously, just to have another taste of the honeyed sweetness.  They made an excellent open topped tart, but nothing could beat the taste of them fresh. 

So I am very happy to discover that I have my own tiny version of the plum tree.  I wonder if it will have a good crop this year.  I think I will be kind and give it a feed of chicken manure and bone meal.