There was no doubt in my mind that my fabulous fig tree would be the subject for this week’s topic – growth. I just wish I had a picture of her when she was a” baby”. She stood all of about 15 inches tall, and I didn’t have high hopes for her surviving my ineptness when it comes to things that grow.
I remember, as a child, my parents’ land lady had a beautiful fig tree in her yard, which I also considered our yard, by association. I had never had a fresh fig. Didn’t even know if the taste would please me, but she looked so pretty and purple. The day came when I mustered up the courage. I knew I just had to have one, so I ripped her from the branch and ran. I hid behind our house and nibbled, carefully, delighting in every tiny bite. I did this on a daily basis, until one day, as you might venture to guess, I was discovered. After all, I was eating them faster than they could grow. (can you say bare tree?) My sweet, soft-spoken mom was mortified and scolded me, vehemently, for picking figs off the tree without asking. I knew I had done wrong, but, I also knew that I loved that heavenly, deep purple fruit and I was addicted!
The pilfering stopped, but the love of figs did not.
That tree was gigantic in my little eyes, and I couldn’t even imagine my black thumb growing anything so big and hearty. But, I knew I had to give it a try. For old times sake. Little did I know…
Believe it or not, the fruits of my labor!
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