Maybe it’s because of Christmas approaching with all its joy , and tribulation ( a great word that) but memories are hitching a ride on the back of other-worldliness .

So I was out on the garden again fiddling with my suddenly huge fig 🌳. I’m surprised at how it has still managed to sprout new branches , despite vigorous pruning a few months ago. Moreover it has secretly been producing figs. Maybe it is hiding them from the cockies that eat them every year, but I only spied the nearly ripe ones when I reached under the canopy to remove weeds.

Today is Gaudete Sunday in the church calendar. The third Sunday in Advent . Rejoicing Sunday. Even for non believers it’s a lovely term, containing the joy in this lead up to a special birth. For once in the liturgy there are no threats or bribes or reminders of the horrors facing non believers.

Let the wilderness and the dry-lands exult

let the wasteland rejoice and bloom

let it bring forth flowers like the jonquil

let it rejoice and sing for joy,

( Isiah 35 v 1,10)

There are lots of biblical quotes about fig trees putting out branches. I realised today that all the water and pea straw and care I have spasmodically lavished on this tree might be irrelevant .

The tree has its own mind and I can chop and water and care or not care, but it spreads where it will and grows fruit regardless .The figs I picked before the birds are not ripe.So they’re on the window sill to ripen , hopefully.


Lesson from figs over .