Repost from September 2, 2010 – For dear Neighbor Corinne. The fig tree that Neighbor Corinne gave me is now about six feet tall. It didn’t produce any fruit last year – nor does it look like it will this year. But I know – as surely as I know the sun is going to come up tomorrow – that it’s just a matter of time until we get fruit again.
I have been in fig heaven for the last few weeks. Figs tarts have dominated our diet. I’ve eaten them for breakfast, brunch, lunch, snack, dinner and midnight snack. However, figs are not free. For some reason, I continue to do things that are embarrassing so I pay with a bruised ego.
Then I turn around and the tell the world about it.
My friend Neighbor Corinne has a couple of fig trees (bushes?) in her yard. Last year I went to her home to pick some and I fell in love with the fresh fruit. This year was another banner year. They were beautiful.
So one early morning, the dog and I dropped the girls off for their field hockey practice and I drove to the beach. On the way home, I stopped and picked a few figs from the tree in her front yard.
I told her after the fact and she was very sweet about it. In fact she said I should go to her back yard because they were bigger. So without ado, the next early morning, the dog and I took another trip to her house and I helped myself to the tree in her backyard.
Fig tarts, here I come.
I told her afterward and she seemed okay with the fact that I was skulking around her house at 6:30 in the morning.
So now I’m thinking it’s not her fig tree. It’s mine. It’s there to satisfy my fig fetish.
Last weekend, I did it again. I dropped the girls off for their field hockey practice (those poor girls) and the dog and I made our way to Neighbor Corinne’s home to skulk. The dog started to protest about being left in the car.
“Shhhh…,” I said, “You’ll wake them up.”
Needless to say, I should have listened to the dog. I think she was saying “Don’t do it, don’t do it.” A part of me still feels like a thief even though in my mind, my tree was at their house. It’s that little voice in your head that you should always listen to.
Later that day, I logged into facebook to tell her I was at her house. Only to find that another friend of hers had schedule to go the next day to pick figs. I read the message over and over again…eeekkk, the figs were gone.
I debated in my head what to do. The easiest thing was to not say anything. But that would have guaranteed a lifetime of guilt and sleepless nights being visited by the Ghost of the Fig Bushes. Scrooge has nothing on me when it comes to a guilty conscience.
So I wrote – “ummm…ladies…I’m so sorry but I picked a few this morning. I just came on to tell Corinne and I saw this. Yikes, I wish I checked earlier. I promise to let you know BEFORE I come next time Corinne. I feel badly. There are still quite a few left by the way. Oh man…”
Something’s just not right me with.
I saw Neighbor Corinne the next day and she gave me a hug which made me feel so much better. I reciprocated by giving her a couple pieces of fig tart.
I will post the fig tart recipe after I’ve healed my bruised ego.
By the way, months ago Neighbor Corinne gave us a planting from her fig tree. It was a short little guy but now has grown to about three feet tall. We planted it in our a yard a couple of weeks ago and it’s doing fantastic. I hope it will bear fruit next year, and Neighbor Corinne will never again have to worry about the fig thief.
This is my very public apology.