Figs

I have memory of pulling a fig from a neighbor’s tree, maybe on a dare, maybe on a whim, and taking a big bite of it.  The seedy inside and dull green flavor were a major turn off to my six year old taste buds.  I had the distinct feeling something was wrong with that little fruit.  I wasn’t even sure what the thing was at the time.  I think I was much older when I realized it was a fig. The fig I had eaten was certainly not ripe, but beyond that there were no figs around, even at the store, for me to know what they were.  Fig Newtons were the extent of my experience.  Although I still enjoy a Newton now and then, I am not sure when I had the chance to eat a perfectly ripe fig.  It may have been an exorbitantly priced jewel from California maybe twenty years after that first backyard disaster.  Fresh figs don’t transport well and have not been been produced on a large commercial scale in the U.S., you have to want them to get them.  I have worked in a few restaurants where the price was not too much, but even then they were only good (that is, worth eating) a couple of weeks out of the year and rarely great…

Or, that first delicious fresh fig could have been on the sandy windblown North Carolina island of Ocracoke.  They thrive there in the heat and poor soil.  After noticing the first fig tree, it was not hard to see them growing like weeds in just about every yard.  They make their appearance in the local food in cakes and jams, but occasionally in a savory dish.  They go great with salty things like prosciutto… But even there you have to be lucky to happen upon a fresh fig.  Either the tree is well tended by a human or the birds have been waiting for just the right moment to swoop in and swipe them.  Ripe figs are not often left on trees for wanderers to find…

My mom has taken fig cuttings from Ocracoke and spread them about, as she likes to do with any plant that allows it.  Several years ago, maybe 6 or 7, she gave me a potted cutting of variety she had been told was called ‘Celeste’.  Not having a very good sunny space for a fig, I planted it where I thought it would at least get a little afternoon sun and not be in the way.  That happened to be beside a large pine tree on a small slope of hard packed sandy soil.  I proceeded to neglect it.

It has grown slowly and determinedly, and my neglect has been met with the reward of only a fig or two over the years.  Figs are not unheard of in my area, but they are not common either. A little further north and west, and it is unlikely that figs would grow without some overwinter protection.  One harsh winter a few years ago, several nights of single digit (Fahrenheit) temperatures seemed to take a toll on the still small plant.  It struggled on, though.

This was finally the year.  The fig is now a good sized bush maybe 3 feet tall and wide.  The leaves are a rich green, like the roots have finally found the soil the fig needs to thrive. The fruits appeared later than in the past and grew slowly.  It may have been a well timed rain that swelled them into ripeness.  The birds noticed the first few, but I tossed netting over to save the rest.  There may have been twenty total that I picked.  Not enough to do more than snack on, but still an amazing reminder of the abundance of nature.