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The people's fruit
"It's April again. Every few days, I take my daughters on a treasure hunt. In the centre of Raglan there’s an enormous feijoa tree. A bounty of ripe feijoas, like green Easter eggs, carpet the ground beneath. My four-year-old climbs high into the branches and sends more raining down. The little one proudly throws fruit after fruit into the shopping bag. When we get home, we eat them by the dozen, and the kids always want more. At night, when I cuddle them to sleep, I can still smell the sticky-sweet scent on their skin..."
Feijoas have become a New Zealand emblem. So how did they end up in Aotearoa, and how did we end up adoring them—to the point of obsession, for some—when feijoas have not really caught on anywhere else? Keep reading...
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