I am 19, worked for the month of July to pay for my summer vacation.A friend who had a brother studying medicine in Malta,proposed to go there.hitchhiking from Switzerland where I had made a stop to visit my parents, all the way down the boot,sleeping in meadows, youth hostels and the like.lugging a backpack through Pompei in the searing heat of August was memorable, as well as the cleanly shaved chest of the sicilian truck driver who took pity......Malta was beautiful, rugged, and very hot.One day, on the side of the road, I saw my first fig tree loaded with dark fruits.a resisting pull, and the tear shaped , organ like jewel was split to reveal its juicy pink center.It was love at first bite.Since then, I wait for the summer to unload its prized fruit,the bite into the crunchy and sweet center, or with the oven roasted ones drizzled with honey ,or tossed in muesli, or savory salad with blue cheese and arugula.My backyard fig tree is the thread to that memory....
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