Our main, reliable apricot tree is at the far end of the orchard.
I forgot to check it just recently and was only alerted by jays flying out of it that the fruit is now ripe!
And how ripe.
There’s no way you can beat a tree-ripened apricot.
When you split it open and take out the stone, there’s juice lying in the hollow. It melts under your teeth.
The jays took surprisingly few and we got a basketful.
Some to eat raw, then jam, perhaps?