When the figs come into season, my brother-in-law is at the ready. He doesn’t have any fig trees in his yard, so he is always counting on the kindness and generosity of neighbors and friends to issue invitations to pick their figs.
This morning at 6:30 a.m., he called. “Fig patrol,” was all he said.
He told me to meet him at the Robicheaux farm. Within 10 minutes, we were armed with buckets, a step ladder, insect repellant and rubber gloves. It was a glorious morning, and the dew was heavy on the young sugarcane in the fields.
We headed for the grove of fig trees! Paradise! The Garden of Eden! The smaller trees were loaded with the pink-purple and much loved Celeste figs. Within 30 minutes, we had filled four buckets! We couldn’t wait to get to our respective homes to make fig preserves!
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