There are fig trees in my office because my Great Great Grandfather missed the Azore Islands.
My Grandfather on my dad’s side grew up in New Bedford, MA. His Grandfather was from the Azore Islands. And he missed figs like nothing else. Maybe I have a deep love of food in my genes. But don’t we all?
My Grandfather told me a story when I was a kid that stuck with me. I think it was intended to be a “this is how hard it was in my day” sort of story, but I took something different from it. And it was very impressionable to me. His Grandfather made him spend a whole summer digging a giant hole that would fit 2 trees, 8 feet deep. Have you ever dug a hole? In New England? If you have you know how impressive it is to dig a hole that big by hand.
In this hole he planted 2 fig trees, one dark one light. And then on top of the hole he put a little glass green-house ceiling. The depth made sure the trees didn’t freeze in the winter.
I’m not exactly sure why this story stuck with me. But it’s one of those funny things that just doesn’t fade. I remember clearly hearing about it and how impressed I was. I remember wondering what these figs must be that somebody would miss them so much (I didn’t grow up with fresh figs). And it’s one of those stories that has just stayed with me and become a part of me.
There are now 2 fig trees in our new office at CloverFIN (160 Federal St.). One light, one dark.