The Fig Tree

The fig tree, and the delectable fruit that accompanies it, are symbolic in many ancient traditions. In Judeo-Christianity, the fig is referenced from the very beginning of time, a staple in the Garden of Eden; a symbol of prosperity and abundance used in parables to show how tending to ones faith produces bounty and beauty. And let's not forget the barren fig tree, able to be fully restored with a little TLC, a reminder to us all that what we see on the outside is not the full story.   

In Eastern traditions like Buddhism, the fig tree symbolizes enlightenment and is highly revered, if not fully sacred. The fig teaches about looking inward to find spiritual truths and awakening. And also, don't judge the fruit by its color...just wait until you experience what's on the inside.  

In ancient Egypt, it was seen as the tree of life, literally the intersection of life and death, helping souls into the afterlife. In Rome, abundance and fertility. In the Middle East, purity and knowledge. In America, well, we dumbed it down to produce a yummy fruit cookie/bar. 

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Personally, I have had a love-hate relationship with Fig Trees. One of the traditions of my former Italian family was for each "branch" of the family to care for a fig tree that had been carefully propagated from the original tree brought over from Italy by the first generation. A lovely tradition in theory, for years we dutifully cared for our tree, bringing it in during the harsher winter months and back outside once spring had sprung, watering it with reckless abandon (seriously, how much water does a plant really need?!), and ironically, the only person who actually ate the fruit was little ol' me (I am sure there must be some symbolism there...) And after a while, wanting to take the tradition one step further, thousands of dollars were spent on farm equipment that would be used exactly one time to help dig a gigantic grave so that the fig tree could be buried at the end of fall, winter underground and then dug back up and replanted each spring, just like they used to do in the old days. 

For anyone whose eyes just widened at the excavation visual, or who perhaps had the letters WTF float through their consciousness, yes, it IS coo coo for cocoa nuts....a BONKERS idea at best. And yes, it really does work. 

So, for a couple years, the fig tree was buried and unburied and buried and unburied. And then, one fine day, I realized I had been left with a buried tree in the ground. And yet another decision to make.

Well-meaning friends had all sorts of things to say with the overwhelming majority telling me to let by-gones be gone: Let it die its natural death, they suggested. But, let's be honest: I haven't purposely killed a living creature (minus flies and mosquitos) in so long I cannot recall it. I have literally attempted to save each and every life form that comes to pass my way, going as far as trapping wasps and RELEASING THEM BACK OUTSIDE and I wasn't about to let an innocent tree just die on my watch. It was not at fault for the falling apart of my life and subsequent leaving of the person responsible for its yearly excavation. And now, the baton of insanity had been passed.....

So, one day, the builder/landscaper friend of mine came by, with an ax to grind of his own, and offered to dig up the tree for me since he had some angry energy to unleash. Who am I to get in the way of another human's need to dig? So that year, the tree was dug up and planted once again and when the time came, I had planned to simply put it in a VERY large pot and pull it inside but alas, Solomon, in all his sentimental glory said: But we HAVE to bury it....it's tradition. (Oh, for the love of God already!)

Yet, because I am a sucker (and my friends and I couldn't actually lift it to put in the planter) I hired a lad to bury it back up. And once again, it wintered underground. 

This spring, I had a brilliant idea: Why not put Solomon in charge of the digging-up and burying of this soon-to-be gigantic tree? It's an Italian tradition afterall, and I am clearly NOT Italian (so I was told many times). I pulled him aside and said, "Hey, it's time to dig up the fig tree and you are now responsible for helping." He groaned and complained as we lifted the board from the hole and dug the tree out. And then the most incredible question was uttered: 

"Why are we doing this again?" Solomon asked.  

An eerie silence took over the entire land. A death stare shot into his face: A diabolical look that slowly went deep down into the bottom of the burial ground from which we had just brought forth the ancient fig tree.....and back up at the boy whose words were still hanging in the hollow air.

I resisted every evil urge that passed and simply reminded him of his desire to stick with tradition. 

"Oh, I'm fine if we just want to plant it in the pot," he stated, nonchalantly. 

HALLE-FRICKING-LUJAH!

I ran into the barn, grabbed the gigantic planter and we used every ounce of strength to plant that tree in its new, mobile home. 

(Don't worry, it grows leaves eventually. How else will we sew loin cloths later?)

So, I started the slow process of filling the large hole in the back yard. This took several weeks as I cleaned out chicken coops and yard waste and whatever else might fill the space. And then one day, I was at the garden store and saw they had a particular variety of fig trees for sale (Chicago Hardy) that CAN BE PLANTED IN OUR ZONE! I am pretty sure the marketing material said: NO NEED TO BURY. 

I was so excited I almost bought two....almost.

It's not that I don't appreciate the nostalgia/tradition of the off-the boat fig tree but COME ON! They literally make them so that you DON'T have to be absurd twice a year! So now, while I will still wheel the first generation plant in and out of the barn (for tradition's sake, you're welcome Solomon!), I will also watch my hardier Chicago variety take up its space and dig in some roots where they actually belong and shoot, grow freely like the earth meant it to. 

 

And, this little guy has already started bearing fruit. 

I'll take the WIN!

You can literally take a leafless branch that has broken off the tree, and stick it in the ground and lovingly tend to it and one day you get this. Have faith, the fruit is coming.