Our fig story

When I first bought this old house, the two fig trees in the backyard didn’t seem like much. They looked a little tired — a few small figs here and there, nothing special. I didn’t expect much from them.

But in the second year, something changed. The branches grew stronger, and the trees suddenly came alive. That summer, they were covered in figs — more than we could ever eat.

At first, we gave them away to friends, neighbors, even the mailman who admired the trees from the road. But the figs kept coming — bowl after bowl. That’s when an idea bloomed: maybe our little son could try selling them.

We set up a small basket stand in the front of the house. He learned how to greet people, weigh the figs, and make change with a shy smile. It became our summer rhythm — the sun, the laughter, the smell of ripe figs in the air.

Seeing his joy, I planted more trees. One turned into three, then five. Now, each year when the figs ripen, our backyard feels full of life and connection — not just fruit, but memories growing under those green leaves.

What started as two quiet trees became something much more —

a story about family, generosity, and the sweet surprise of new beginnings. 🌿💫