Fresh Figs

Before this weekend I had never eaten fresh figs.

Yes, I was a fresh fig virgin.

Sure, I'd had my share of Fig Newtons and dried figs, not to be mistaken for human ears, as in "The Colonel," by Carolyn Forche. And at this very moment I have a jar of fig preserves in the fridge, to spread on toast.

But I had never eaten fresh figs. I had only seen pictures, as in the painting above, by Jonathan Koch. Fresh fig on table top, right of strawberry.

Oh. My. God.

You can see why people get upset with Jesus for smiting the fig tree, and you can see why Jesus got upset with the fig tree for not having any fresh figs on it!

Pausing to breathe in. Breathe out. And to say: Edna St. Vincent Millay. A Few Figs from Thistles.

OK. Many thanks to Jan, who brought fresh figs from Fresh Market to the poetry workshop this weekend. I will remember you forever.

Many thanks to Jonathan Koch, who lets me use his paintings in my blog. Many thanks to Wikimedia for the public domain/free use fig images. This fabulous fig cutaway is by Rainer Zenz, who says we can have it!  Oh. My. God.