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| figs on the trees |
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| and on the ground |
At El Dorado, there are fig trees. And
plums, pears, walnuts, quince, pomegrantates, grapes-- the remains of
a garden now gone more or less wild. No one prunes or harvests these,
except a neighbor who asked for some figs, but they are fine fruit.
And there is a lovely climbing rose over the doorway and window,
which needed pruning. There are two kinds of figs: green and deep
purple, both velvety-skinned. They fall by the hundreds onto the
ground, on the sand and the sidewalk. No squirrel or rabbit, and few
people eat them. I gathered up several hundred, rinsed them, and lay
them out in the sun. It takes about four or five days for them to
dry. I soon realized they needed a covering net to keep off the
fruitflies... in the end, I put them all in the freezer for couple
of weeks to kill off any flies or eggs remaining. They are delicious:
the paler ones are deep red and tart inside, and the purple ones
milder but prettier. Wonderful stewed in orange juice or lemon.
Many of these crossed the ocean at Christmas for a taste of Spanish summer.
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| an embarrassment of riches |
