Thread: Picked a bowl of figs today.

Your picture brings sweet memories rushing back. Grandma would send my cousin and I up to the tops of the tress in Beaumont when we were young and light, 4-10, to get the ones she couldn't reach from the ladder. She had 6-8 BIG fig trees. We'd pick the ones that looked just like that. She would have her paring knife with her in a pocket on her apron and peel about ever third one and toss it back up to us to eat, putting the rest in her apron. When she passed she had a mountain of Mason jar cases stored under her old-timey high beds, all full of homemade preserved fig jelly. We ate fig jelly for years. I miss you Grandma Pate. Still haven't found anyone who could hug me as good as you could. Saute, thank you so much for the memories you brought back. In the same manner that I smell the fragrance of a magnolia blossom from seeing its picture, I look at your fig picture and instantly their taste comes rushing back over more than fifty years. That, and the visage of the top of grandma's head down there as she peeled us a fig.