On the farm we had a fig tree that sat in front of my little white spinning house. Every summer it produced a most outstanding fig crop. What a delicious treat to pick one of those luscious sun-warmed figs off the tree and bit into its fleshy sweetness.
This is the only photograph I could put my hands on quickly to show our fig tree there in the background.
That's four year old Rose with Tar in front.
A fig tree grows on the side of the road where I have walked for many years. I've watched figs bud, mature, and grow ripe year after year. Memories of eating fresh figs tantalized my taste buds every August. No one has ever gathered these figs, they were simply food for the birds, or they just sadly rotted on the branches. This year I decided I would try to find the owner of this tree. One day she was in her yard and told me to help myself. And I did! I believe fresh figs might perhaps be an adult taste, but if you enjoy the taste there is nothing quite like them.
And today I made a very easy fig preserve. I do wish you could taste them. I wiped the pan out with a bit of bread and I had to close my eyes as I slowly chewed its figgy sweetness. These jars of fig preserves will be a taste of late summer this cold winter.
And there are more figs still waiting for me to pluck and bring home to make even more sweet goodness.
