I am going to make an assumption that the dead or dying Apricot is grafted onto the root of Plum. I am also going to make the assumption that when choosing Plum rootstock for the purpose of grafting Apricot, the variety of Plum is not chosen for the stature and succulence of its Plums. From these two assumptions I am going to put a 'therefore' onto the idea of a tree out there which, if it produces Plums, they will probably turn a mouth inside out.
As well, I am going to say that given the nature of this part of Kentucky, there is an excellent chance that Squirrel, Chipmunk and their allies, also Raccoon and Possum, along with the Cloven Hoofed, and maybe Moles, will relieve me of ever having to concern myself with the taste of whatever Plum might arise from the embers of what could have been an Apricot tree. But you never know it could be pretty enough to anchor a lonely corner.
Saint Timothy, naturally remembers Apricots. There were good trees and bad trees, he tells me, and all of them emerged from Apricot Pips, so there was never the problem of an opinionated Plum deciding to dominate. Ancient Greeks, of course practiced graftage, as it's sometimes called. Today a Golden Delicious is always exactly a Golden Delicious a year after it is picked, and the same for Apricots. And, as with so many things the practice amongst us people probably began when God decided to let the Buddha loose on the very far eastern territories.
Then I made the mistake of saying, "It must have been nice in Eden." Saint Timothy laughed at me and said, "That's what I used to tell people, then Jesus started wearing shorts at the weekend, joined the NRA, and performed the odd miracle in the stock market." Which was something I found hard to believe, and rather depressing. "It's perfectly all right," the Angel of Greed started to sob in that pathetic way, "It's all in the Bible and can fit through the eye of a needle."