Fig trees grow in yards all over Georgia. Their soft seedy fruits sweeten my childhood memories.
Recently I passed a fig tree and was delighted to find it loaded with figs!
Anticipation turned to disappointment. All of the figs were hard and green, too young to eat.
I knew there were ripe figs coming but I had to travel on, so I blessed them for the fruit that would delight someone else.
Then I left.
Within the hour I met a friend who handed me a bag of ripe figs freshly picked from his tree.
The key to miracles is knowing them when you see them.
YUM! I love figs. Their leaves make great clothing, too.
The figs of my childhood grew in the western desert of Egypt. I loved them too once they ripened and the fruit was liberated from the nets placed on each tree to safeguard the fruit from bird fans. They were then packed in rectangular baskets made with the woody stems of palm trees and lined with their fronds to prevent the fruit from falling out of these woven crates protect the fragile fruit. When they arrived in Cairo having travelled from their coastal plantations, I was the first in line awaiting them. Figs are the fruit of the Goddesses of bygone times as well they should be
nice fig foto.