02 October 2009


Le figier next to the house has been spoiling me. Many times a day I pass it picking ripe figs, splitting them open, and throwing them into my mouth without a care in the world. (sacré bleu!)

It gives twice a year, this tree, once in late June, and then again in September. In the spring I seem to eat less because the blackbirds get there first. I've noticed that its because the leaves haven't matured and the fruit is like sitting duck, easily picked off. The blackbirds (les merles) are great crooners of course, but they really love figs (vachement!). In July they leave us to go north somewhere.

Upon their return in early Fall the leaves are large and the precious figs are hidden. (Helas,) the poor blackbirds, for I have stripped the tree bare! (il est dénudé!) This week, sitting under a waxing moon, and me slightly rounder, I listen to their plaintive song.... 

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