Haunting yet delicate – the dusky heart of a sun-ripened fig uplifted by ethereal plumes of creamy oleander, neroli orange blossom, freesia, carnations, white marigolds, and cerejeira.

Fig tree, for how long now have I found meaningin the way you almost forget to bloomand drive without drama your pure mysteryinto the young determined fruit.Like a fountain's channel your curving branchesforce the sap downward and up again;look, it springsstraight from sleep into its sweetest achievement—like the god entering a swan. . . . - Rainer Marie Rilke

art: The Angel of the Birds, Frantisek Dvorak 1910