Figs for Hope

Wandered out in the garden this morning and was astounded to see the fig tree full of ripe figs; when did that happen? After we got back from England and the watering system had failed, the baby figs were tiny, dried out, and I sadly brushed them off to at least fertilise its soil. And then, this miracle of unexpected bounty...

And they were utterly delicious, like toffee, but squidgier and more crunchy.

It gave me back so much hope. That everything isn't dying already...

From "Thirteen Ways with Figs", by Michelle McGrane:

7. 
Beguile your partner with fig-leaf absolute
dabbed along the curve of your neck.
Wear almond blossoms in your hair.
Dance on a terrace with a view of the harbour, 
to the flashing grin of an accordionist
who smells of sulphur and plays like the devil.
Clap your hands. This is no time to tiptoe.

8.
On a balmy midsummer evening, wrap up your al fresco meal
at the warped wooden table under the plane tree
with blistered grilled figs, spoonfuls of soft mascarpone
drizzled with orange blossom and rose water.
Smell the mimosa.
Don't wipe the sugary smudge from your chin.
Carry the sated silence to bed.

Or - you could just enjoy them with some goat cheese and a glass of tawny Port.

Gratefuls:
- ripe figs and poetry
- Netty's fish curry
- walking up the Land and finding the wild asparagus covered in buds