We had eight figs hanging on our little tree, on the front porch.
One fell off, having burst open and hardened. So then there were seven...
Today, we decided that one of them was ready to be picked. It started to hang downwards, and felt soft. It didn't pluck as easily as I expected, but a quick twist and it was off the tree.
Richard washed it, and cut it in half:
A great moment.
I'd like to say that my half was the best fig I have ever tasted, but honesty compels me to admit that it wasn't. Not by a long chalk. It was actually rather flavourless, and not particularly sweet.
Still, it was the first.
So now there are six...
Unfortunately most of them are rather small, speckled and hard. I suspect that, like the first of their siblings, they may just split open and drop off.