When I was about 10 I stole an Osage Orange fruit from the tree at Heide.
I had heard that Indians would make bows from the springy branches, so my plan (quite a far-sighted one) was to grow my own Osage Orange and reap the glorious harvest.
I secretly buried the strange and elicit fruit at the Snuggery... but to my chagrin, it never sprouted.
Still, I had a fibreglass bow to tide me over- with which I would range the St.Andrews hills, letting fly my self-made arrows at any obvious object...(no actual animals were harmed in the making of this anecdote).
1.the fruit- quite remarkable
2. enthusiasts still make bows from osage orange- some staves being seasoned.
3.Nigh on four years ago, I dusted-off the old bow and held an Archery Tournament.
4.The lad next to me in the hooded slop, is my page ( he is tall for his age) and she-of-the-roomy jeans is my wench. (Youll note that all the jeans were roomier in those days. Perhaps some denim hosiery would have been more appropriate- but weren't on-point.(fashion-wise or ballet-wise)).
It seems we are engaged in some kind of ridiculous clouting. ( shoot up, and aim for a target lying on the ground)