Whew, the title of this post alone is enough to make you weary! However, my foray into espaliered fruit trees has taught me that there is not a lot of succinct, yet complete, practical information out there on growing espaliered fruit.

Espalier, as defined by Wikipedia, is “the horticultural technique of training trees through pruning and grafting in order to create formal “two-dimensional” or single plane patterns by the branches of the tree. The technique was popular in the Middle Ages in Europe to produce fruit inside the walls of a typical castle courtyard without interfering with the open space, and to decorate solid walls by such trees planted near them. Evidence exists suggesting that the technique dates back much further, perhaps even to ancient Egypt. The word espalier initially referred to the actual trellis on which the plant was trained to grow, but over time has come to be used to describe the technique.”

This technique both creates a way to produce more fruit in less space and gives the gardener a highly-decorative, but still food-producing, way to use some hard-to use spaces like, in our case, a small spot on the fence between our vegetable garden and compost bins, or a bare patch of wall next to our dog run.

So how to get started? The fruit trees typically used for espalier grow on super-dwarf rootstock. We ordered two super-dwarf apple trees when we placed our fruit tree order from Raintree Nursery this winter: a Liberty and a Striped Gravenstein.

There is quite a detailed discussion of espalier on Mother Earth News, but it’s quite long and I’m going for succinct, so I kept looking. P. Allen Smith has the most succinct step-by-step instructions for espalier. Here are some other tips for growing espaliered fruit trees:

1. Look for young (1-2 year old) stock. A whip (one single branch, i.e. a stick!) or something with very few side-branches is best.
2. Plant the whip or young tree at least 6-8 (but I’d say no more than 12) inches from the wall or structure you’re planning to use to support the tree. You need airflow and room for the trunk to widen as the tree ages, but you also don’t want to have the trunk sticking out and all the branches moving away from it in a big V…you’re going for a 2-dimensional tree here.
3. The most simple form of espalier is typically three horizontal rows of branches, each 18 inches apart with the first row starting 2-3′ off of the ground. There is a great drawing of this in the P. Allen Smith article referenced above, or photos of this simple espalier, as well as the more complex diamond-lattice pattern on SouthernAccents. You can also create a fan shape by training the branches at 45-degree angles instead of horizontal. I found a great diagram of some different espalier designs in a rather unlikely location. I’ve seen quite a range of wire gauges recommended (from 10-15) so I’ll probably shoot for something in the middle to train the branches on.
4. Rodale’s Encyclopedia of Organic Gardening has a long-winded very descriptive explanation of how and when to prune branches that I think will come in handy next year, but for this (first) year with our espaliers, I’m basically planning to choose a strong shoot on either side of the trees to train as the bottom tier of the espalier. It also goes in to what to do if you have one very strong vigorous branch and one weaker one, because of the importance of keeping the espalier balanced in order to get the full effect of the pattern. I have no idea yet to what extent this will be an issue for us, but I’ll keep you posted!
5. Don’t let it fruit the first (or second!) year. I have yet to test my ability to remove fruit from young trees. But since I’ve already been dreaming about the handful of cherries I’m going to get off of my tiny baby cherry tree this year, I’m guessing this may be the hardest part of espalier, at least for someone who is both impatient and in to food production! However, I know that the reason for pruning the fruit is sound–that tree needs to put all its energy into root and branch production, not fruiting! So we’ll see if I can do it.

I don’t want to suggest that espalier fruit trees are easy or low-maintenance, but I do want to suggest that it is possible to do without a degree in horticulture (it better be, because I don’t have one!) and without spending $200 a pop for pre-trained fruit trees. My trees just look like little sticks now, but I will snap some photos as they develop into what I hope will be beautiful and productive fruit trees.

When we bought our first house nearly ten years ago, one of the things I loved, loved, loved about it was not the beaded curtains in the shower or the swag lights, it was the gigantic Jonathan apple tree in the back yard. This thing had perhaps never been pruned (or at least not in the last 15 years) and was a full-size tree about 30 feet tall and 40 feet wide. It took up half the back yard and was much overgrown (that first summer the branches bent to the ground with fruit, which made mowing a bit difficult), but I started dreaming of pies and apple sauce and lounging in its bountiful shade.

The tree did not disappoint. A couple of heavy restoration prunes brought out the hidden glory in this tree and one particularly bountiful summer we had over 200 pounds of apples. Luckily for us, that was the summer before my son was born and my mother spent Gabriel’s first days making his first food–homemade apple sauce double blended for extra Grandmotherly goodness.

I was sad to leave that tree behind, but knew that apple trees would be part of our next home’s landscape. In a fit of giddy garden lust, Matt & I stayed up one December night researching apple tree varieties. He had his cider book in hand, I had various Cooperative Extension reports on fire blight resistance and preferable root stock for our windy, dry environment. By the end of the evening, Raintree Nursery in Washington was loving us and we had ordered a whopping five apple trees (Ashmead’s Kernel, Honeycrisp, Roxbury Russet, Striped Gravenstein, and Liberty), a Montmorency cherry tree, a Warren pear, and an Italian Prune (plum) tree. Did I mention our lot is slightly smaller than a third of an acre and that I have tons of vegetable garden space built into this landscape already? Or that I also ordered eight grape vines to cover part of the 425 feet of fence line? Or that I have a 25 foot row of raspberries built into the plan as well?

To answer your questions, no, we’re not going to have much turf in this edible landscape and yes, I’m a fruit in more than one sense of the word

Anyhow, there was one tree missing from my order list and I ordered it today: a Northern Spy. I’ve never tasted a Northern Spy and, compared to some of the other varieties I’ve ordered, it may not be quite as unique or tasty (although I hear it is pretty good). But there’s a story behind this tree that makes it perhaps the most special one of all. In August of 2006, my husband had to go to China for three weeks on business. This was just a few months after my darling daughter, Lily, was born and when she was still prone to bouts of inconsolable screaming for hours at a time.

To say that I called my parents and begged them to come visit is to understate the desperation of my situation. As always, they came through and arrived just a few days after Matt left. One sunny August afternoon, my father and I drove to the local fruit stand to get some of Colorado’s famous Western Slope peaches. After a pleasant lull in conversation, Dad said, “Have you ever had a Northern Spy?”

At the time, I had no idea that this was a fruit, let alone an apple, and was wondering if we were talking old army stories here, or a mixed drink (unlikely, knowing my father), or what. Then he told me it was an apple that he had eaten as a boy and he wondered if anyone still grew it. I didn’t think much about it at the time, but that story has come to have a great deal of meaning to me because Dad passed away very unexpectedly just over a month after this conversation. Had Matt not taken the trip, I would have missed the opportunity to spend one last week with my father, and would have missed out on this one final story of his boyhood in Pennsylvania.

So I ordered a Northern Spy from Seeds of Change today and will plant it next month in honor of my Dad. And hopefully, several years for now, it will bear fruit. I don’t know for sure, but I’m guessing eating that fruit will be pretty sacred around here, regardless of whether it’s as floral as the Ashmead’s Kernel, or makes as good a cider as the Roxbury Russet.