My Fig Tree

When my late wife Joan and bought Buerton House, the garden was a blank canvas and as such suited us do well as were able to create what you see now – a quite well established place of shale, colour and peace.
One of the things we planted was a fig tree . A Brown Turkey one . To plant a fig tree one has to ensure the roots are in a strangled state and to achieve this we created a brick lined box in which to plant the young tree . That way the tree sip fruit for sure. And believe me it has worked every year so far, but this year it is the heaviest crop ever. My dear Jo died suddenly back in the millennium year so is not here to see this glorious harvest. Right now the birds and then the wasps are having a go at the figs that I cannot get at before them .

A story on my very taste of a ripe fig. Way back in 1968, I was an executive in the Littlewoods Mail Order business and to create our catalogue we had many photo shoots fir the clothing pages. As it gap-evened we had a new idea to have a mens and womens swimwear section for a coming catalogue .

This required the swimwear to be photographed on location and the place chosen was Sardinia at the Aga khans luxury resort there on the east coast . As the client I was asked to go and oversee the affair. A good 8 days of luxury and my very first visit to any Italian resort . We flew in from mainland Italy in a small overwing plane . Photographer was a fellow named `Cornell . For us a very good guy with the camera. So there I was with 7 models- five women and two men. Living a life of pampered luxury as the "client" . And there I had my very first fresh fig . Delicious purple fleshed fresh fig. Peeled for me by one of the models with her long fingernails. Felt like the Aga Khan himself ! ~

But back to Buerton. Of today . And my crop of so many figs. Exotic fruits and oh so sweet. Will pick as many as I am able before nature wins them all.
See my photo along with this tale .
Ralph Warburton