Last Saturday morning I succumbed to the temptation to walk to one of my favourite coffee shops, about 1,200 metres from my home. As you might recall, I still have some restrictions in movement because of a herniated disc in my lumbar region as a result of a car accident almost three months ago. My usual long strides at speed are out of the question. I walked slowly. I took over twenty minutes for what I know I could do in 11 in July this year. This meant I had plenty of time to spot the little half-dried figs still hanging on the trees on my route.
I was a real glutton. I had three handfuls as pictured here. Total sugar overload. From that you can deduce that I am not walking to lose weight. I am walking because I like walking. I am walking because I like coffee in the coffee shop. Any figs I can scoff along the way are a bonus.
Today, still trussed up in my corset, I walked with my neighbours again. I managed all four kilometres for the first time since the accident. And I managed a few figs. The rains are making them soggy, and so no more until next year. Meanwhile, I had my first two persimmons of the season today, and tomorrow morning I shall breakfast on pomegranate juice. It is a little like the milk of Paradise, I imagine. It has to be; sometime I think that is where I live.
©2017 Allison Wright
That elusive pair of jeans 
It seems there is healing happening – physical and emotional?
Figs are the tastiest, sweetest fruit. Figs and mangoes!
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A little of both, Eleanor, and it is most welcome.
FIgs seem to me to have a sensuality about them that mangoes lack, which does not make mangoes any less likeable or less sweet, of course, just less sensual – and messier!
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Aye! A lot messier!
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