Every fall I wait for this fig tree to ripen. It’s an amazing pluck of gourmet heaven. I found it on my favorite walk, one I’ve been treading with my dogs for nearly 15 years. It is my sanity this walk and this tree just adds a to our venture–all sticky, sweet & sustenance.
I will share my figs with you. I will pile your bowl with them, but I will not tell you where it is. It’s my secret fig tree.
The tree is nearly in plain sight for any jogger, walker, biker to see, but they don’t see it. They speed by, zoned in, zoned out, buzzing on their cellphones, tuned to their iPods, missing the deliciousness of it all and this place: the river, the dirt road, hawks, coyotes, wild roses, walnuts, the whoosh of dried grass, so I’ll keep it for myself. And even though I’ve taken bags of figs home, it is still full, still waiting for someone else to take notice and eat.