My friend John visited after work to diagnose the big fig tree he’d delivered in November.
We’d been texting about some concerns rattling around my brain since he’d told me it was OK to take it out from its winter home in our shed.
He’d mulled over my texted photos and decided it was time to come look in person.
The fig tree whisperer took a few circles around the brown pot. He touched the trunk, branches and buds. This was his baby (tree), having sprouted from clipping culled from is lush backyard collection and boundless care and affection.
Yet he still unloaded the baby fig tree, second big pot, and combo of compost and soil from the back of his truck and detailed instructions from his mind. Together we put together the second, smaller tree that will be my dear wife Karen and I’s second this spring and summer.
It’s all an experiment, he explained. Win-win. We learn from caring for the trees. We should eat figs.
Thank you, John.