Raw figs. Fig newtons. Fig preserves. Figs and cheese. Pooh is to honey as I am to figs. My childhood was spent under the most enormous fig trees in my grandparents backyard. Around those trees traditions were formed. Eating raw figs on the green swing with grandma, finding the most enormous leaf for the best hiding spot in a cousins game of hide & go seek, understanding the importance and love of family. The memories made and the traditions started all those years ago led to a God-adoring, family-prioritizing, picture-documenting, crafting-obsessed, show-tune singing, DIY-focused, southern girl. And this is my life. Imperfect. Yet wonderful.
Although some days resemble the barrenness of Pop Pop's fig trees in the depths of winter, the joy of knowing the days of bountiful harvest will always come again is reason to celebrate. Though each day isn't all fun and games, I am thankful for this life and the opportunity each day brings to bear fruit. I hope you enjoy the stories, tutorials, successes and failures of life with me!
"Though the fig tree should not blossom, and there be no fruit be on the vines, though the yield of the olive should fail and the fields produce no food, though the flock should be cut off from the fold and there be no cattle in the stalls, yet I will exult in the Lord; I will rejoice in the God of my salvation." Habbakuk 3:17-18 (NASV)