Not true, I do. I have a fig I bought from the library for a £1. I like our village library very much because it is valiant. Against the massive tide of cut backs and almost certain demise, the staff pitch up with odds and sods to tempt the few who still use the service and to drum up a bit of cash. Figs; dug up garden bulbs of February Gold; second hand books; old magazines; wares from the local wood turner. The offerings are many and varied.
Anyhow… the fig; it might be ‘Brown Turkey’, it might not. It has been in a 3l pot for ever and needs to have a permanent home. I’m always impressed when I come across a big fig tree because they seem so exotic. A native of western Asia and the eastern Mediterranean, the fig nevertheless seem to thrive in the UK in sheltered positions, particularly in coastal areas. I’ve remember coming across an incredible specimen in a churchyard on the west Wales coast. The UK even had a bit of a fig industry once upon a time in Worthing.
So I need to find a good spot in full sun. I’m leaning towards the back of the dutch barn in the old orchard which faces south west.
Figs are supposed to fruit better if their roots are restricted so I’ll construct a ‘brick box’ underground. With any luck in a few years’ time I’ll be able to feast upon fresh figs, honey and mascarpone for breakfast!
Reading this week: Extra virginity: The sublime and scandalous world of Olive Oil by Tom Mueller