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When these people eat with you in your fellowship meals commemorating the Lord's love, they are like dangerous reefs that can shipwreck you. They are like shameless shepherds who care only for themselves. They are like clouds blowing over the land without giving any rain. They are like trees in autumn that are doubly dead, for they bear no fruit and have been pulled up by the roots. (Jude 12 NLT) Finally accepting defeat, I yanked the bare twigs I called a fig tree out by the roots. Clumps of rich dark soil released their hold on the spidery tentacles and returned to fill the void in the pot. I stood back and pondered what to plant in its place. Five years earlier when I visited a friend in South Carolina, I had delighted in the taste of figs fresh off a tree. I immediately researched the viability of growing them in Pennsylvania. The internet assured me I could indeed grow figs in my climate zone if I took special precautions. I planted my brown turkey fig tree in an enormous pot with drainage so I could shelter my precious plant in the garage over winter. For warmer months, I dragged it to the sunniest area of my property, a place of prominence in my front yard. That first spring when leaves budded and unfurled, I could almost taste the harvest to come. In June, with joy, I spied tiny fruit sprouting. In July, for no apparent reason, the figs shriveled and the leaves browned. By August, my neighbors probably wondered why my landscape included a few bare twigs in a huge pot. | 
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