VoyForums

[ VoyUser Login optional ] [ Contact Forum Admin ] [ Main index ] [ Post a new message ] [ Search | Check update time | Archives: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 ]

[ Next Thread | Previous Thread | Next Message | Previous Message ]

Date Posted: 10:17:42 06/22/09 Mon
Author: Anna May
Subject: Sharing this week's column, it's about my gr. father's fig tree
In reply to: Anna May 's message, "As we all think about our fathers" on 09:46:53 06/21/09 Sun

A fig tree grew in Brooklyn

By the end of June the air in Brooklyn was beginning to get muggy, at about 8 pm most every night my grandfather would take my tiny hand and we’d venture through the streets till we reached the vendor who sold lemon ice. It was always a special time, a bonding time for the two of us. As I ate my cup of tangy ice, we waved to people on their balconies, stopping occasionally to talk with friends; this nightly, summer ritual became my favorite part of living with my grandparents.

As you walked down our street, most of the brownstones looked alike, except for our closest neighbor who had two large stone lions adorning the entrance. I was thrilled to climb up to the top of their steps and sit on one of the lions. People were friendly, no one would complain about a child acting like a child and children could play on the sidewalk. There were times during the day when the street was blocked off for a couple of hours while the older boys played softball. Nobody complained, kids and parents were relaxed, as it was rare for anyone to abduct or hurt a child in our part of the world.

Though the fronts of our homes where gathering places during the day time, each house had a small plot of land in the back and each person tried to make their piece of the world as unique as possible for when family and friends got together on the weekends. Along our driveway, my grandparents would sit outside on folding chairs during those hot summer evenings, the square piece of raised bed that was straight behind our home was where my grandfather planted his beloved fig tree. So while most of the other families had set up picnic areas in their square areas, or swings for the grandkids, we had this ‘tree’.

I must have been about six the first time that I really noticed the tree and how much room it occupied. Grandpa was busily wrapping it up to protect it from the approaching cold weather. When I asked him why he was doing that he explained that it was a fig tree, like the ones he grew up with in Sicily and how they are not as hardy as the trees that grew wild in New York. If he did not have it planted in such a protected area where the snow would pile up against it and if he did not wrap every fall the branches and trunk of the tree would freeze solid and die.

Being a child, all I knew was that sounded like a lot of work to go through when there were trees lining the sidewalk, up and down the streets and hundreds of trees in all of the parks that didn’t need any protection. All I could think was that my grandfather loved this tree very much, but why?

The Sweet reward
Early the next spring, I watched as grandfather carefully unwrapped the tree from its mummy like garment. Suddenly it looked quite naked standing there with its limbs stretched out. I wondered if the tree had thoughts, and what it was thinking? Was it cold? Could a tree actually feel the cold? I was full of questions and bet my constant interrogation was more than a little annoying.

It was not long after the unwrapping when my grandfather set up the ladder, got a handsaw and cutters and started cutting back some of the branches. He explained that figs only grew on new growth and the cutting back at certain places encouraged the tree to make new branches. That the process of growing figs was something you worked a little bit on throughout the year, except for the time during the winter when tree was sleeping.

After we left the tree on its own to grow for the summer, we got busy doing other things, like readying the garden and then planting tomatoes, eggplants, peppers and summer squash. I’m sure my grandfather would of planted a much larger garden bed if not for the tiny section of garden he had to work with. There wasn’t a space that was lacking for something growing, things like herbs were planted in containers and set out along the driveway.

While the garden vegetable grew we often checked on the fig tree’s progress, its hand shaped leaves fascinated me and as they opened the tree took on a new stature, one of royalty, I was starting to understand why my grandfather thought this tree was important, yet the best was yet to come.

In August the delivery truck arrived at our back door and big crates of grapes where hauled down to our cool, dark basement where my grandfather would spend the next week teaching me how he’d transform them into juice, place that juice in oak barrels, where it eventually turned into wine. The same wine we had with dinner every night of the year. Yes, even I had a tiny taste in my soda water.

The process of making wine delighted all of the senses, the sweet tangy smell of the grapes, the musty basement smell and the juice soaked wooded boxes blended together in such an unforgettable bouquet, one that still lingers in my memory. Those were good days when a child could have real life experiences as they learned from their elders.

One day, grandfather came and got me, saying I had to see something special. There, on the fig tree where little fruits, some still green, some almost brown. He reached up, picked one and gently set it in my hand. “Taste”, he said. The texture of the skin was a bit strange at first, yet I continued to bite into the flesh, which was amazingly tender and dark pink. It was the sweetest, most tasty food I had ever eaten, it became clear to me why grandfather worked so hard to keep this tree alive. And it planted the desire in my heart to grow my own fig tree one day.
The End

[ Next Thread | Previous Thread | Next Message | Previous Message ]

Replies:

[ VoyUser Login ] Not required to post.
Post a public reply to this message | Go post a new public message
 * Notice: Posting problems? [ Click here ]
 * HTML allowed in marked fields.
* Message subject (required):

* Name (required):

  Expression (Optional mood/title along with your name) Examples: (happy, sad, The Joyful, etc.) help)

  E-mail address (optional):

* Type your message here:

Choose Message Icon: [ View Emoticons ]

Notice: Copies of your message may remain on this and other systems on internet. Please be respectful.

[ Contact Forum Admin ]

Forum timezone: GMT-5
VF Version: 2.94, ConfDB:
Before posting please read our privacy policy.
VoyForums(tm) is a Free Service from Voyager Info-Systems.
Copyright © 1998-2008 Voyager Info-Systems. All Rights Reserved.