It was 20 days ago when I saw that the fig trees started to bloom. In 20 days, the leaves are the size of my hand. Spring is here, but summer is in the air. All the birds and insects are coming to life after the long winter. The green leaves of the fig trees throughout the yard symbolise this fact. The fig tree has two definite symbolic meanings for me: Change and Rejuvenation.
The first sign of spring, change, is the budding of the fig tree. The first sign of autumn, change, is the falling leaves of the fig tree. The fig tree symbolises nature’s clock. I mindlessly walk in the garden, but I see in the leaves, or the budding stage, nature’s hour like a metaphorical clock. The green colour that stretches over the sky if you look from the bottom upwards cannot but fill me with a sense of happiness and awe. Every year this time, like so many thousands of years in the past, the fig tree comes back to life after the dormant winter with stunning new growth.
Every winter, I look at the fig trees, all the deciduous trees, and the vineyards, and all I see is the deathly fingers scratching the cold blue sky. I always fear that they are dead, dying, not coming back to life, but every year so far, they have come back to life. There is something special about this change, the human eyes we lay on this new growth reminds us of our own leaves we throw off for the winter just to grow back new growth in the spring. We can learn so much from nature, we should just look deeper, longer, more attentive.
Every spring, the new rejuvenated growth on the fig trees “scream” a bright green. Green symbolises growth and this new growth can lead to infinite possibilities. New, youth, growth, energetic, vigour. All these words ring true when I look at the fig trees that now cares the summer sky with their leavy fingers. Where in the winter the bony fingers scratched the cold sky, now the touch is gentle, caressing, taunting, teasing, soft. It makes the tree looks youthful; it reminds me of my own youthful spirit. We should not forget to remain young of heart and spirit. Our bodies might age, but like the fig tree that becomes youthful every year, we should not age with each passing year. Instead, we should cast away that what makes us age, and feel rejuvenated each year.
Nature gives, and seemingly never asks back. Nature gives, and seemingly always will. I look at the young new growth, the new young baby figs, and I cannot help but think about the abundance of nature. With minimal effort, and with little input, nature gives so much. We pick the fruit for us, we leave extra the fruit on the tree for the birds and insects, and each year the process begins anew. Old birds return, knowing about the fruit, new birds find the tree filled with fruit on their long journey, replenishing their bodies. We eat the fruit and feel a youthful burst of energy, not necessarily from the sugar, but from the knowledge that we form part of this natural process. Each year we stand, almost as if on our knees begging, below the tree when she casts off her leaves, praying that next year her green fingers will protrude the sky. And each year the prayers are answered. Each year we take away and put back, we form part of the abundance.
I stand in awe at the rapid growth in which these trees have grown. We had such good rains over the last six months. I can only hope that the minimal effort I put into them will yield growth and potential produce. The birds are already eyeing the new fruit. Everyone seems happy, and the garden is alive. New growth, youthful rejuvenation, and change. I can only say thanks to whoever is listening.
