Folks Should Call Me Miss Figgy At This Point

As some of you know, our fig tree (a cutting from my husband’s grandfather’s tree many moons ago) flaunts her fecundity each June, and then promptly closes shop within the month. This year, she held on to her small green figs until the very end of June, when they plumped up all purple and big as softballs, in some cases.

As soon as you twist one off a branch, a sticky milk spurts out, and it’s quite itchy. Even three rounds of vigorous Soft Soap won’t make it go entirely away. Nature’s weapon.

This was Thursday morning’s haul.

I’m always surprised by how few people have ever eaten a ripe fig, but it makes sense, since you never see them in the stores. They die after 48 hours, so you have to eat them quickly. As neither my son nor my spouse are fans, I have had to force myself to eat 3-5 figs daily, just to fulfill the chintzy gal inside me, who cannot pass up free food. Plus, it’s healthy!

Sometimes I have to add them to a salad, so I don’t get so bored.

I gave a bushel to a Facebook friend, who sees me post them daily, and tried to offer some to the new Asian family across the street, but he thought I was asking him to come trim my tree. Eventually, I spoke with the wife, who was happy to try some, and I packed a dozen in a to-go box for them. Another 10 were given next door to our Indian neighbors, who thought at first we were offering “pigs”ย  last year. They said they didn’t eat meat and politely declined. But once we got past the consonant confusion, they were down with a pile of figs.

Lastly, the neighbors behind us actually can see the purple orbs as they hover on branches above our fence. We told them to snag whatever they like, since the abundance is overwhelming, and I packed up another box for them and passed it over. It will be 107 today, and zero chance of rain, as usual, so I don’t know how long this tree will keep pumping them out. But until then, I’ll keep reaching for the figs (except the top branches; those are for the birds and squirrels).


13 thoughts on “Folks Should Call Me Miss Figgy At This Point”

  1. We don’t eat meat. Too funny. You are right figs are hard to find. Fresh Thyme has them dried but that just isn’t the same. I am with you about passing up free food or wasting food. Neither is acceptable.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. If I were your neighbour, I would gladly accept some surplus figs. I absolutely love them but, as you say, they don’t tend to appear in stores. I think that maybe just makes them an extra treat to me. That and the fact that they are super seasonal. I did not know about the itchy liquid from the fig tree.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Hey, those are nice, succulent figs. I really like a fig jam/preserves. We have a neighbor with an abundant fig tree but she treats the harvest like the Crown Jewels even if it intrudes into our yard. Stingy! It’s 104 today so I sympathize on the temps. Was that a rare Kerbey sighting in that last photo?

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Yes! You noticed! Well, I already don’t like your high and mighty neighbor. I can’t reach to the tops of the branches, so I leave them to the birds. But it is hard to stand back and see so many ripe and succulent violet orbs up there, knowing they may shrivel and waste. I wish I could wriggle my nose like Bewitched and turn all these into jam.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. In Hawaii we had these basket thing -a -ma -bobs that we used to bring down papayas and mangos. They’d probably work for you. Amazon sells them under the name “Fruit Picker Pole Tool.”

        Liked by 1 person

  4. The not eating meat via pigs made me laugh out loud.

    You are so lucky to have figs. They are a wonderful treat. One of our neighbors has a tree and they share them with us on occasion. Great photo of you below the tree.

    Liked by 1 person

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