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Some years ago, a young, sorta-hippyish couple knocked on my front door. They had noticed that I had fig trees in the yard, laden with summer fruit. If I wasn’t going to pick them all, they asked, could they harvest some figs? Since I was about to take a trip, I said: Sure, have at ’em.
Upon my return, as I stood at the door fumbling for my keys, I looked down – and there were two jars of delicious fig jam awaiting me.
52-29B Building Neighborliness With Free Fruit
Here's your free preview of this content:
Download the files for this content at the end of the post.
Some years ago, a young, sorta-hippyish couple knocked on my front door. They had noticed that I had fig trees in the yard, laden with summer fruit. If I wasn’t going to pick them all, they asked, could they harvest some figs? Since I was about to take a trip, I said: Sure, have at ’em.
Upon my return, as I stood at the door fumbling for my keys, I looked down – and there were two jars of delicious fig jam awaiting me.
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