though NY is really to cold for them, they are cultivated by many, and each winter, pruned, bound, wrapped, topped with a waste can

[personal digression]We have a family myth about fig trees. My great-grandfather (an Italian immigrant) absolutely adored figs, and as soon as he bought a house in the Boston area he dutifully tended and coddled a small fig tree he planted in the yard, but never got more than one or two shriveled, bland fruits every year. The year after he died, though, the tree bloomed forth with an abundance of sweet figs.

I'm not sure if that's a tale about the impact those passed can effect in our world, or just about the way nature's processes will not be bound by our meager lifespans, but it always makes me smile just the same.[/personal digression]