Gettin' Figgy With It

Alison wants fresh figs.

I've never had a fresh fig, so I'm not sure what to think.  The most figgy I've gotten is Fig Newtons. 

So, last year, after searching farmer's markets and other sources and coming up zero, we decided to buy and plant our own fig tree.

We understood it might be a year or more before it bore fruit, but we were willing to put in the time and effort.

We planted it in our yard, and within days, a dog roaming the neighborhood decided it was a stick and broke it in half.*

You see above a picture of our fig tree a year later.  It survives, but it really hasn't grown much.

 The central stick (trunk?) is the one that the dog broke off.  I'm assuming it will grow around it, but I don't know.  It may already be limited in its ability to grow.

We're glad that it's still alive, but it won't be this year that we get figs.

Maybe next year.

*Living in the city of Blackshear, there are some leash laws, but their enforcement is pretty lax.  It's not as bad as the county.  They have no animal control at all.  When we lived in the county, roaming bands of wild dogs was a serious problem.  We lost at least one cat, and possibly more, to wild dogs.

P.S.

I've been formulating in my mind this blog story for a couple of weeks.  So, it is just serendipity that the song title I satired, Gettin' Jiggy Wit It, came from Will Smith, last night's Best Actor Oscar winner, whose triumph was ruined by his smacking Chris Rock. 

So, no hard feelings, please, Will?  If it helps, I think your wife is beautiful, and I would never make a joke about her.

I promise.