Monday Meanderings - 6.25.2018

Fig tree finale.

Shortly after we moved into this house - more than 50 years ago - I planted 3 fig trees, nay, fig saplings, on the north side of the house.

When I mentioned this to a friend, Ross Davis, he commented. "You better hope that 2 of those trees die."

We soon found out why Ross made this comment. Fig saplings quickly turn into fig bushes, and fig bushes quickly grow into fig trees, and fig trees quickly begat more trees, and pretty soon we have more fig saplings/bushes/trees (and figs) than we know what to do with.

The prospect of delicious strawberry/fig preserves was intriguing, and we did harvest and cook and can a quantity of preserves. Once, or maybe twice. It was a lot of work for a few jars of goodness that one could purchase for a very modest sum.

Besides, the trees soon grew taller than the house, and if you wanted the good figs, you had to get on the roof to harvest them and that quickly lost its appeal. I'm pretty sure that Sally, our neighbor, harvested more figs than we did.

Then there was the matter of large fig tree limbs simply falling over. One day they are tall and upright and the next day they are lying in the neighbor's yard. And there was also the matter of over-ripe figs scattered on the ground. And driveway. And on the A/C unit. And everywhere you stepped on the north side of the house.

A number of years ago, one of the 3 trees did, in fact, die. But the remaining 2 simply doubled down in honor of their fallen comrade. Recently I began considering the prospect of a total figectomy. One call to No-Mo-Fig-Trees and  they would be gone. But I procrastinated. Until I went out the other day and noticed that one of the largest limbs was now leaning against the edge of the roof.

So Saturday, No-Mo-Fig-Trees put us out of the fig tree business. Permanently.

I need to call Ross and tell him that I finally took his advice.