work. :-(

A couple of people at work genuinely wanted to know how I was doing after last week's shenanigans, so I ended up venting the whole story to both of them. I hadn't realized how much emotion I've been carrying throughout this experience, until it started to come out in those discussions. Anger, sadness, helplessness, all kept in check until I could get clear of the whole thing and let it all out for processing. Once you allow a crack in the dam, though, you're probably done for. That's not a bad thing at all, but it did make for a heavy 3-day week, with many days to wait until the next bit of movement.

On the other hand, my response to the sad events is energizing. There's nothing to perk up your day and take the pressure off like taking charge of a rough situation, making some decisions, and taking action.
 

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One of California's many quirks, if you're from the Northeast, is the presence of fruit trees. Did you know oranges and lemons grow on trees? And figs? And that these are things that you can grow in your yard, without very much work? In New England these are things you buy in a grocery store, full stop. This is also the magical fairyland where I can seriously plan to have a big grape arbor with multiple kinds of grapes, which I will then eat.

The majority of our trees are fruit trees, in fact. Mostly decades-old, poorly-pruned fruit trees.

• 2 cherry plums (plus a dead one).
• 1 loquat (not very happy, and the squirrels have eaten all the fruit).
• 2 peaches.
• 1 apple.
• 1 orange, picked clean by the departing tenants and desperately in need of pruning.
• 2 charmless, non-producing, incredibly dangerously thorny lemons.
• 2 figs.

We had the first harvest of plums a few weeks ago, in the neighborhood of 10-15 pounds from one tree. (Anna made plum syrup, but we gave about half of it away.) The rest of them seem to be ripening in a nice not-all-at-once manner.

But the figs. My god, the figs.

One fig tree we call the Threatening Tree, as it's partly dead and looms over the garage (alas, not enough to do serious damage and have insurance build us a new garage). It's been showing ripe black figs for weeks, but they're about 30 feet up and we can't get to them.

The other tree is Figgy, who is the same vintage as her sister Threatening Tree, but instead of shooting straight up, has grown out more, to become about 15 feet wide and 20 feet high. She is currently covered in figs, mostly hard and green still, but ripening more by the day. They may number in the thousands. In about 10 minutes we gathered four handfuls. Figs appears to be more or less squirrel-proof, since fig branches are to slender and flexible to support a squirrel.

So. Many. Figs.

They're delicious! But we're trying to stay ahead of the coming Figpocalypse, and find people who want some figs, as well as researching recipes for ourselves. As I continue feeling better--I suspect resolving the work situation will make a big difference--hopefully I'll make some fig breads.

While I certainly don't urge people to buy a house, I have been really surprised by the sense of place it provides for the three of us. We won't be here forever, but while we are...it's ours. It's good.