The Fig Tree That Would Not Die

There is a fig tree in the yard that has been cut down many times by previous owners. Yet, today there are many branches that stretch into the air, its fingers pointing to the heavens signifying its defiance, its resistance, its resilience. Like the resistance fighters in the history books, this tree did not want to die. Now, it stands proud with many branches that still grow each day, producing new fruits each year. This is the amazing story of nature; you cannot kill that which wants to live.

It is a fruit bush now, it has resisted previous owners, it has survived a drought, it survived the onslaught of other plants climbing through its branches. Now, it is a big fruit tree that produces many fruits for our family, and for the many hundreds of birds that visit it each morning and afternoon. It has been dubbed the giant bird feeder. You can see its many branches stretching into the air.

Below the fig tree, or the many branches of the fig tree, a small forest has erupted. The many years' worth of fig leaves fed the ground, much like its fruits still feed us and the birds. The ground underneath the fig tree is probably some of the richest in nutrients around the property. The constant bird excrement is probably also a contributing factor. The ecosystem around this tree is simply wonderful.

But this provides ample nutrients for new fig trees to pop up from the ground, new shoots from which new and bigger fruits can grow. As you can see above, the new shoot is healthy, it grows so many new leaves, and the fruits from these new shoots are plump and big.

The dark color on the new shoot is alluring. The big fruits look surreal. I felt an intimate connection with the tree as I stood underneath it, alongside it. I picked the ripe fig and I broke it open to reveal the flower, the fruit, the juicy flesh, and I ate it. There are so many rituals in which warriors ate the flesh of their opponents to consume their strength. I consumed the flesh of the tree to nourish me, so that I can carry on growing more food, to feed more people and animals.

The new shoot, as I look down its spine, its new growth, looks like a vast network. The roots send up water, and the leaves send down endless signals and communications. A constant communication from the ground up to the top and then down again. The tree talks a language that I do not understand, yet I can feel its strength.

Thick elephant-like trunks keep the tree afloat, alive. The many different cuts that previous owners made to the trees are visible, some dead tree trunks (photograph below) are still visible. But like a hydra, where one head was cut off three new ones grew back. Now, there are various new trunks, each one a main new tree. Where the original tree is, I do not know. All I know is that there are at least four main trunks now, each tree trying to outgrow the other one. Yet, they grow in harmony. Each one is allowed their own space. Each one produces plentiful; feeding me and the birds.

Some have died, the previous owner and the drought that took its toll. Not everyone survives the battle. But these are mere reminders, nothing but scars that have already healed. Two or three died, but ten new shoots have sprung up, already bearing fruit.

The photograph above is the new growth that covers the trunks that did not make it. Living tombstones, living reminders that death is a part of life. Above the dead trunks, many new shoots have grown from trunks that survived. With every season, there seems to be more life that somehow comes from the depth of the earth. My compost heaps are close by, maybe there are some roots that have found the stream of compost tea that seeps into the ground.

For now, I will give thanks to the magnificent tree that will not die, with its many new trunks stretching into the air, giving us fruits each year. Even in the drought of 2016/2017, the tree produced fruits. Now, with ample water and sunshine, it has given us so much. Tomorrow, I will go out again and pick more. I will leave some for the birds. I will leave some with the hopes that new seedlings will sprout as soon as the winter rains will come in six months.

For now, I will merely think about the flesh of the fruit I consumed and become one with this magical tree.

Nature is amazing with her ability to withstand human's destructive nature.

All of the photographs are my own, taken with my Nikon D300. The musings are also my own. I hope you are well and that the tree of your life will also stretch out into the sky and grow many fruits.