He gives a fig

Outside time.

My friend John invited me just a few miles down the road in our shared town for dinner with him and his terrific mother and a little wiffle-ball golf in their lovely backyard.

First, though, he explained the fantastic fig tree grove that circles the patio.

He plants them, cares for them greatly, feasts on their resulting fruit.

Outside they stay in their pots in warmer months. Water, frequently. Fertilizer, once a once. TLC always, I intuit. Inside the garage they go for our harsh winter, not for temperatures so much but to shelter them from our snow and blowing winds.

John likes to “cannibalize” them, as he calls it. In more tender terms, he snips branches, places them in new pots of soil, and gifts them to family and friends.

My dear wife Karen and I are in line to receive our own fig tree.

We have the yard and winter space in our shed that should work.

Thank you for sharing your knowledge and in the future, branching out further with a young tree, John.

13 thoughts on “He gives a fig

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