Fig Time

When I was a little girl...when dinosaurs roamed the earth...there was a fig tree in the corner of our neighbor's yard that hung generously over the fence.  About this time of the year I would enjoy the shade of the fig tree's canopy and the warm figs.  When Don and I got married, I planted a fig tree at the southeastern corner of our house. Many years I've stood under its canopy and enjoyed its fruit.  Last year when the figs ripened, I was in Colorado helping Jaime get settled in her new home so.....this year I've been looking forward to eating the figs.  A couple of days ago Grandmother told me that she had picked a big tub from her tree so off I went this morning.  I debated whether to take a bowl or a bucket...hmmmmm...bowl is what I chose. "I can always pick again in the morning." I thought.

I put on my sandals and padded across the dew covered grass with much anticipation.  Sun warned figs for breakfast...I could hardly wait!  I ducked to enter the large leaf canopy, eyes upward. My eyes darted from branch to branch to branch to branch to branch.... not a single ripe fig.  Just days before I had seen them from the window.  Had I missed the harvest?  Had they all fallen to the ground in waste? Sadly I looked down expecting to see the over ripe figs fermenting on the ground. Not a fig.  Not a single one.  Someone had beaten me to the harvest?  Who would do such a thing? 

Ahh, then I remembered.  I had heard footsteps early one morning.  Could that have been the thief?  Had there been trespassers? Maybe more than one?