When it rains, it pours...an abundance of figs.

Well, for a while there we had rain every week. We got a little spoiled. It promised rain last week, but lied.

So, I guess you can say we are in the "dog days." We are still cooler than normal (if you can call mid-90s cool), but the heat still takes everything out of us. The dogs are lethargic. I am worn out from my work's "busy time" (some would call it "crazy time"). I don't want to sound like I am complaining. I love my work, but these are hard busy, brain-killing days. By the end of the week, I am spent.

Still, this is fig season.* The fig lady called to arrange a meeting and I gathered the promised five pounds of figs from the drugstore parking lot earlier today. That would be my weekend work.

Then my friend BC (we eat breakfast together most Saturdays at the neighborhood Mexican restaurant) called me at work. It seems that some folks we know from the restaurant where we eat heard us talking about figs. One of them, MK, had been looking for us to see if we wanted to come pick figs off of her tree before the bird got 'em - "I've been by the restaurant three times this week, looking for you" She doesn't like figs and said we would be doing her a favor. So it appears that I have another fig lady.

After work, tired as I was, I put on my old clothes and headed out to the lake with my friend.

We drove around looking for the house. BC said, "We drive past two blocks. Then it is the second house on the right. It is a pink house." Well, the second house on the right was a tan house. We turned around. "OK," she said. "Maybe it is turn right after the second block and it is the second house on the right." [I should say there was a good deal of laughter and joking about memory - and lack thereof - and ability to follow directions and ability to remember names. You cannot call people for directions if you only know their first names!**]

We tried the new directions and there was the pink house.*** MK saw us stopping and came out to help.

When you walk through the gate you suddenly see a mass of fig limbs covering a fifth of the yard.

A small compost container under the tree.

The fig forest is a mass of dead wood, new limbs, leaves and ripening figs...and a few trash trees taking advantage of the fertile soil.

The clearing under the branches of the fig trees.

It was in the mid-90s when I arrived, but 10 or more degrees cooler in the shade of the figs.

Fig trees are often masses of smaller trunks if no one is pruning. This homeowner is hoping the fig trees die (or so she said).

The second tree mass. The bottom is about 5 feet in diameter. The trees stand well over 15 feet tall.

Large green figs need a few more days and a little more water to ripen.

It is a different fig from the little brown honey fig, but the preserves are still good. And one should never turn away a source of figs.

Large figs and little brown ones. I thought you might need to see the difference (I learned the quarter trick from Ebay).

Little brown figs - from dime to quarter sized.

But the best thing about this little adventure was what I found when I managed to fight my way past the branches to the backside of the tree. There I was - standing in a cave-like space under the shade of the fig leaves. The ground was clear. It was just enough space for three or four children to play with folding stools and toy dishes and things from the Indian missions. It was cool and dry and smelled, well, it smelled like fresh earth and fig leaves.

VK told us we could come back anytime and pick figs, "whether we are home or not."

I will be back, if only to stand under the trees**** and listen for the quiet echo of giggling children from long ago.



NOTES:

*All this talk about rain is in aid of an explanation of why the figs have been so good and full. The earlier rains helped the crop develop this summer. If we don't see more rain, the last bunch of fruit on the trees may not fill-out or ripen correctly.

**OK. Fig lady #2's first name is Melba. The best I could do was "Melba Toast" and that wasn't it.
I know the last name now because I read it off of the mailbox. Gotta write a "thank you." Fig preserves seem a "southern" thing and I am a southern girl, but I am bad about thank you notes.

***We had been driving up and down those streets long enough that I half expected someone to call the police and report that two women in a truck were "casing" the neighborhood.

**** I discovered there are actually two distinct - and huge - trees.