Figgy dreams

As we think ahead to life in Pittsburgh, plants are on our minds. We have some apple trees and a avocado seedling to bring with us, and then I had the idea to grow figs. A year or two ago, my family and I stayed in a beach house with an enormous fig tree in the yard. That week I would go out each day and pluck the ripe, succulent figs from the branches, and it was glorious. I long for a fig tree of my very own, and I'm setting out to make that happen. I started doing a little research and came across this gem of a site: Adriano's Fig Trees, Etc.
Unfortunately, Adriano has set up shop in Toronto and doesn't do business Stateside, but I shot him an e-mail to inquire about any U.S. connections. I learned a HEAP about different fig varieties, and am already having fantasies about working the Pittsburgh farmers' market circuit with my fig truck, peddling the only locally-grown figs in town. In my daydreams, I divide my time between cultivating my Ronde de Bordeaux (a small, dark blue variety with "an excellent flavor...Better than Violette de Bordeaux. Very sweet and cold resistant.") and toiling in my studio over little fig studies in oil. Fig portraits. Olive's bedroom will feature a fig mural on her wall, and a fig mobile over her crib. I'll sew together fig leaves for our clothes. I've got figs on the brain, and the inspiration they elicit is dizzying.

We're all doing well. Just had ourselves some leftover Moroccan lentil soup from last night. SO much better the second night. Zoe had her spring concert where she played clarinet with the band and sang with the chorus. Our good friend, Robert, is the music teacher for three of the schools here, so there were a lot of musicians in the concert. He does a phenomenal job with the kids - there are some really talented kids that he teaches. I'm consoled by the fact that at least Zoe has a great music teacher, as that is an area where she excels. Olive enjoyed herself, as she usually does as such musical events. This time she was much more aware, and, for the first time, felt to me like a much older baby, where I wasn't on edge, worrying about her bursting into tears. She held out for a while, till hunger struck, and we dealt with it. Still, she's a great baby.

It is now that special time of evening...Popcorn Time. My Rob makes the most spectacular popcorn (with sea salt and nutritional yeast) I've ever had, and it's a special treat each and every time we have it - no less than five nights a week.