My parents came to visit this past weekend and brought, among other good things, fresh figs from the tree in our backyard.
If there ever was a food that could be described as sexy, this is it. I always forget how incredible a fresh, ripe fig is. The deep mahogany color, the seductive, supple skin, the jewelled interior, sparkling with hundreds of tiny seeds. This is a serious fruit, one that I find difficult to imagine baked into something, pureed, chopped, or frozen. I would even consider fig preserves a sin if it wasn't the only way to preserve the fig's rich flavor.
The best thing about figs, though, is that, before they go bad, they turn into mouthfuls of fermented goodness. I myself had several that tasted like something akin to very fine wine, but even better because you can appreciate the texture of the fig and the winey taste au meme temps. I was so enthusiastic about my figs that I ate them all before I thought of taking a picture of them to share with you.
I always feel nostalgic about the end of summer, but for some reason the passing of this particular summer has been more painful than usual. I began the summer with perhaps an unreasonable expectation--that it would be the best summer I have ever had. And, oddly enough, my expectations, for once, were accurate. It was, indeed, the best summer I have ever had. I discovered something that has changed my life. I have, perhaps, even found the very thing that will make me happy for the rest of my life. And I am terrified.
I am scared because I am young and hopeful. I am scared because I don't know how I will begin to do what I want to do. How I will afford land. How I will acquire the capital necessary to start something worthwhile. How I will learn and not utterly fail in the process of learning. I sit here at college, clean, well-nourished, and still idealistic in spite of everything I have seen and done this summer, and I know that eventually I will not have the luxury of living in a cheap dorm room surrounded by my peers. I will eventually have to make something (someone) of myself and contribute in some way to society. And the thing I fear the most is that what I want my contribution to society to be will not be what society wants from me.
But perhaps my stubbornness will win this one. Sometimes stubbornness is more than a liability.