In a small corner of my garden, I've been growing a fig tree that my husband gave me about 4 years ago. I've nurtured it, and watered it and hoped one day it would produce figs we could eat.
At first it grew in half a wine barrel, and then last year Bob transplanted it into a brick walled- in space to protect it from the winter. And this year, lo and behold, figs. When we returned from vacation they were just beginning to turn purple. Yesterday, I took my favorite wooden gathering bowl and harvested the beauties you see here. Even the leaves are lovely.
We've eaten a few, but mostly we just look at them. Tomorrow, I'll make a fig tart, but tonight, I'll just gaze and be grateful.