I have a fond memory of a fig tree in my back yard as a child. It had massive branches and wide leaves. I loved to climb it any summer day which was not yet hot enough to force my mom outside as a swimming supervisor.
The tree had several branches my sister and I could sit on or walk across. Ample room for both of us, though I am sure we still occasionally fought over a favorite spot.
We didn’t need a tree house. Its shape lent enough to our imagination.
The only problem with the tree was the leaves were incredibly itchy. I avoided touching them whenever possible. Every time I read about Adam and Even sewing together fig leaves, I remember how bare arms felt rubbing against those leaves.
What a perfect picture of the first religion. Instead of running to God and being reunited, Adam and Eve tried to cover themselves.
And like all religions — it was insufficient, and a little itchy.