There is a triangular garden with the house on the wedge-shaped corner of Douglas Street and Gordon Crescent. The house faces Douglas Street. The trees in the garden lean over the 6 feet colorbond back fence. Walking down to the shops or the station ducking slightly under the branches the smell of figs (Ficus carica), suddenly pervades the air. It is sweet and delicious.
I look up and spot the still green, still small figs, which are in fact the tree’s flowers, the syconia. Each fig species has a specific wasp which is linked to its pollution cycle. These middle eastern figs which we eat, do they even know which wasp long back in the homeland played the role in fertilising the seed? The figs have been cultivated since the time of the ancient Egyptians.
I know that I’m not the only one watching these figs. Neighbours and possums are almost certainly also watching them.