The quince at The Farm has hit puberty. Some have prematurely left home, a scattering of immature fruit tragically circle the tree, to become snacks for the badgers no doubt. But I have high hopes for this persistent beauty in particular. It is now beginning to shed its adolescent fluff, revealing the adult beneath, and elongating into the elegant pear shape of its destiny. Is it a good idea to become so attached to a fruit, when so much is at stake? We will see.