Our tree produced lots of little hard green figs. Researching on the internet we found out that you need to cut back the tree so its energy goes into the buds and not new branches. So I am off into the garden to pull off the figs (one of the recipes for sweet syrupy figs - not the pickled sour recipes). I'm getting white sticky sap from the figs where I break them off, also the leaves I pull off.
I thought I had only half a dozen figs, not enough for the recipe. But this year for the first time, I have a bag full.
The tree is growing like Jack and the Beanstalk, overshadowing everything else, threatening nearby trees, plants, and the conservatory built on the back of the house which is now a lot nearer the fig than the house was when I first planted the fig. (So when planting, think whether your future conservatory or patio might be near that baby 'tiny' tree you are planting.)
I took the precaution of wearing a gardening glove on my right picking hand, with a plastic bag to gather fruit in my other hand. Should have worn the old gardening shoes too. Not just the dew on the grass, or the mud. Nor the insects. Falling sap.
I should have worn a disposable plastic hat. What sort? One of those blue show covers from swimming pools.
My arrive back in the kitchen and I am warned, "Wash your hands and arms now. I've got an allergic reaction to the irritation of the sap on my wrists."
It's hard to get off. I wash the gardening glove as well.
Back in the kitchen I am called, "Got any gloves for cutting up the fruit?"
Yes, I have a box of disposable gloves. Not very thick, but at least they are disposable. You could wear one pair under a glove to protect your skin, another over it to protect the glove.
Now the chopping board will be full of the sap. Should have covered the board and the work surface too.
My family tell me they removed the fig sap in the kitchen with lighter fluid. Really. Good thing I've got a fire extinguisher. Better check the fire extinguisher expiry date - fire alarm batteries, fire extinguishers - all these things expire.
I am going off this fig fruit idea. Now I know why my late mother got tired of making strawberry jam when I was a child and made my father dig up the slug bed, I mean, strawberry bed, and plant flowers.
Next time I'll get the gardeners to pick the fruit. They are already wearing gardening gloves. We have enough fruit to take to our friends we are seeing for lunch. No, we won't take them unripe figs - we like our friends too much, and we want to stay friends.
I have a new swear word. Oh, fig. Fig it.
My travel posts will tell you where to buy jams and chutneys and wines.
