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Southern France
Lynn Deasy is a freelance writer, author, foodie, and garden tinkerer. She lives in a 600 year old house in southern France with her husband, Christophe. Currently, she is looking for a literary agent for her memoir CA VA? STORIES FROM RURAL LIFE IN SOUTHERN FRANCE which examines the oddities of French provincial living from an outsider’s point of view through a series of adventures that provide more than a fair share of frustration, education, admiration, and blisters…. yes, lots and lots of blisters. Lynn blogs every Monday, Wednesday, and sometimes Friday.

Wednesday, September 12, 2012

Why Never to Plant a Fig Tree by the Front Door

The fig tree was here long before we were, and while we love it, there is a 2-3 week span when we regret having it so close to the house.  Here are a few reasons:

Reason 1
Reason 2

Reasons 3 and 4

Reason 5
You get the picture.
As you can see, ripe figs fall and decorate our walk like confetti decorates a bar room floor on New Year’s Day.  They’re everywhere and navigating past them without stepping on one, which would send us sliding to the ground in a heartbeat, is like navigating through a landmine.  The overly ripe fruit draws the attention of every bee, wasp, and hornet in the area and they create a deafening sound as they feast on the fallen fruit.  Each morning, we clean up a new batch of fallen figs, wash down the walk, and then the tree sadistically drops more fruit as we turn our back and haul the bucket full of rotten figs to the compost.  I wish there was smell-o-vision because there is a particular odor that I just cannot completely describe.  Yes, it’s the smell of ripe and rotting fruit, but it makes me think of hard cider and what the inside of a brewery smells like.
There you go- fig season.  Not my favorite, but the season will quickly pass and then we’ll have – winter.
It’s closer than you think.

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