The knowledge of enclosed vespine corpses just adds one more item to my growing list of things I hate about fig trees, of which I have two. Two fig trees are at least one and probably two fig trees too many. Too much pruning is required because spring growth is extensive. Too much fall raking is required because there's a ton of foliage too. But the real pain in the ass is harvesting. Figs really have to ripen on the tree, but as soon as they're ripe they're liable to fall. Without daily vigilance, a big crop will result in lots of smashed, rotting fruit on the ground, which sticks with insane determination to the soles of unwary shoes. Naturally in the season of maturation the fig tree is also the haunt of 17.6 billion insects of every variety, so while it provides ample shade from the sun, it's better to just suck it up and burn. Also less than the most satisfying experience of one's life is picking figs from the tree with a view to either engaging in the messy and overrated process of eating them, the laborious and not especially rewarding process of drying them, or merely in the pathetically futile effort to protect the ground beneath. Mucking about in the middle of that foliage is massively irritating to any exposed skin because of the sticky residue that seems to find its disgusting way onto every leaf and branch. The severity of this irritation is such that extraordinary caution is recommended before following the presumably divinely-inspired path towards modesty followed by Adam and Eve.