© Jo Hewitt THE TEAL MANGO, 2017
Years ago I tasted my first fig. I wasn’t sure about it, so tried another. It is an odd fruit, an enigma of dichotomy. It is fibrous and gives the appearance of a matte toughness, yet bruises easily. It offers illusion. It is not overtly juicy, but satisfies a thirst. Even when ripe it presents the freshness of green rooted in the musk of earth. It draws you from muddy purples to amaranth and orchid bedding a dazzling array of seeded fertility. From poets to scripture, figs have been lauded for healing and as an aphrodisiac, one of the Fruits of the Gods.