Of Figs and Fantasy

I’ve always wanted a walled garden, with high brick walls covered with espalier apples and beds edged in rosemary in which I could walk gravel paths, basket on arm, harvesting figs and roses.   Instead, I have a suburban lot fenced with chain link with unruly fruit trees and rosemary that rarely survives the winter.  I do have my own sweet version of that fantasy, though, with a Brown Turkey fig tree that screens the neighboring house while bearing prolifically and a pergola over the front porch hung with New Dawn roses.  Reality is messier than fantasy – but at least you can eat it.

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