On ripening

Ripening figs. Image found here

The other day at Tales from the Microbial Laboratory, Pam wrote about a ramble she and her dogs went on in her garden, making note of some plants already beginning to bud, and then this:

There were also all sorts of birds hanging out in the branches of the fig tree, waiting patiently even, daydreaming of mid-July and a tree filled with sweet, sweet brown figs.

In my comment on her post, I wrote that that reminded me of the fig tree in my father's parents' yard and how, when the figs would just begin to turn, Grandma would warn me away from them, saying that they weren't ripe and to wait; I wrote that that fig tree and the warnings away from it may have been where I learned about the notion of ripening. Grandma also told me the fig leaves were poisonous and I'd get sick if I so much as brushed up against them, but that's a story for another time.

This all got me to thinking about writing a post on the theme of ripening. I thought how, unless we either grew our own food or knew someone who did, about the only fruit we see ripening these days are still-green bananas or, in my case today, those avocados I bought for making guacamole for eating while watching the Super Bowl. I thought how produce sections of grocery stores, with their everything's-in-season-and-ready-to-eat vibe, have indirectly contributed to our culture's collective loss of patience and isn't that a shame? I've thought about how the theme of ripening, with its requiring of patience, is applicable to education--intellectual maturation--as well.

All this thinking started a week ago. This post I have taking shape in my mind, it's not quite there and I know it, though I want it to be. In its own way, it's like those long-ago figs with their first faint flush of gold on their green surfaces. Better, for now, to walk on past and pretend that those leaves really are poisonous. They'll just irritate me if I get too close to gaze on that too-green fruit to try to hurry them along with my eyes.