The Tenacious Fig

You have to admire the tenacity of figs. Not only are they one of the oldest cultivated fruits known to humankind, with traces of them found in Neolithic sites dating to 5000 B.C.E., but they can grow anywhere, even the most inhospitable locations.

The key to successful container gardening is choosing plants whose natural growing conditions closely resemble those of a container. By this logic, fig trees are a perfect balcony plant. I’ve spotted figs growing in all sorts of unlikely cracks and crevices throughout Italy and California. In both places, they have a storied past.

Figs in Italy

Originating in Asia Minor, figs proliferated across the Mediterranean, garnering symbolic and culinary significance over the millennia. Sweet, soft, and full of seeds, their fruit naturally lends itself to associations with fertility and prosperity. 

But the trees themselves are legendarily tough. Greek hero Odysseus supposedly saved himself from Charybdis’s whirlpool (located, so they say, in the strait of Messina between Sicily and mainland Italy) by hanging onto a fig tree growing from a rock.

Fig trees getting by in crevices will remain relatively compact. But given adequate water and space, figs can grow up to 50 feet tall. A magnificent specimen stands on my husband’s family’s land in Puglia, where they dot the landscape. Driving through the countryside in summer, their sunbaked foliage perfumes the air. 

Figs in California

Figs like long, hot summers and mild winters. Colonizing Spaniards introduced figs in California on the suspicion that they would grow well here, and they were right. That’s how Mission figs, the popular purple variety, got their name.

California’s Central Valley became a hub of commercial fig production in the 1920’s. Although the industry has ebbed and flowed with the fruit’s popularity since then, California still produces nearly all of the nation’s figs.

My husband and I recently took a drive along the Sacramento River Delta, stopping in a few historic towns. I was struck by all the figs we saw growing in alleyways, riverbanks, and parks. Not only were they numerous, but each one seemed different, with unique leaf shapes and growing habits.

An article in Smithsonian Magazine explains how this phenomenon started in the 1930’s: “While commercial fig harvests were decreasing in California, though, birds, wild pigs and other animals kept spreading fig seeds… every fig grown from a seed is a combination of its parents and could constitute its own new variety, depending on how unusual it is. Such seed dispersal has created a genetic melting pot that could bring forth new varieties with unique flavors and traits.”

Today, fig enthusiasts hunt throughout the region for the most unique, delicious varieties to propagate and sell. 

My balcony fig

In a fit of nostalgia upon returning from Puglia last year, we bought a fico for the balcony. This was before I knew about wild Californian varieties, and I chose Hardy Chicago because it sounded impossible to kill. 

Despite its commercial name, the Hardy Chicago variety may have originated on or around Mt. Etna in Italy and goes by over 100 names. Tolerant of freezing temperatures, it’s a great choice for harsh winter climates. Since that’s not an issue for me, I would probably choose differently if given the chance, such as a dwarf variety or one with more strongly scented foliage.

Nevertheless, I love my fig and find it easy to grow. As Gardener’s World says “the idea is to trick them into thinking they are growing on a rocky hilltop in the eastern Mediterranean by keeping their roots restricted.” A terracotta pot in a sunny spot does the job, and I mulched mine with gravel for good measure. However, like many drought-tolerant plants, figs have long taproots, so choose a pot that is adequately deep.

Of course, my tree is young; when purchased, it was about 3’ tall and had several ripening fruits that turned out to be delicious. In the fall, the leaves turned bright yellow and then dropped, leaving bare branches through winter. Fig watch commenced in the spring as the tree came back to life. In July, little fruits appeared, but I’m honestly mystified by fig harvesting times. I’m not sure if they’re breba that will stay green until next summer, or the main crop that will ripen this fall.

But I’m not too worried. I don’t grow my fig for the crop, though it would be a nice bonus. I grow it out of respect; for its history, for its beauty, and for its determination to survive. If you’re looking for a great fruit tree to grow in a pot, look no further than the tenacious fig.