Wandering around Lowe’s looking for stuff for the clothesline.
Somehow, even though Mike was with me I came home with a plant.
Not just any plant.
A fig. A Chicago Hardy Fig.
I agonized over it. I’ve had a fig before, but my dog ate it.
Or at least tried to. He dragged it out of the pot and around the house no fewer than 3 times.
According to my fruit growing guide (love this book! I’ve had it for years and I’ve been using it plan my soon to be fruit-scape since long before we had the house) figs prefer to be root bound.
This limits the root growth and forces the plant to produce more fruit and not just leaves (it’s botany!)
I decided to plant my fig on the south side of the garage, in the old rhubarb bed. Ok, semi-old rhubarb bed there is still some rhubarb there.
I bought a pot a few sizes larger than the pot the fig came in.
Dig a hole for the pot.
You don’t want to fully bury the pot, you might need to dig it up for something.
I would have liked to go a little deeper but I hit a huge rock and I was feeling lazy.
I scooped some poo de llama in the bottom of the pot, added some dirt from the hole and wiggled the plant around until it was even and then filled in around the plant and around the pot itself.
When I walked away from 5 minutes to get the poo this happened:
Remember how I said my dog ate my last fig tree?
Well apparently this one’s off to a rough start. So I did this:
That’s how I roll.
In case you were wondering, Chicago Hardy Figs are apparently awesome. They have the lovely ability to fruit on first year wood. Meaning if the plant gets winter killed to the ground, the plant that grows back in the spring still has the ability to fruit. Also means we have a [slim] chance of getting little figgys this year.
*For those of you anxiously awaiting a Saffron update:
You won’t get one.
My ducks ate the bulbs.