Mulberries

When I was a teenager I had a collection of field guides. I loved to take these guides with me through my family's 40 acres of mostly wooded Midwestern land. I would identify plants currently in season and anticipate when new plants would begin to grow. When that time came I would hunt and when I found what I was looking for feel confident in my abilities. It wasn't only plants. I loved to learn survival skills and checked out training books from the library too. I wanted to know how the forest worked and how to live with just my own two hands. The more I learned the more my sense of wonder and curiosity grew. I always wanted to learn more.

In 2011 my family home on those forty acres burned to the ground and, of course along with the upheaval, I lost everything including my beloved field guides. I could in fact, after stepping through the rubble of our home, make it to my where my bedroom once was and there at my desk and book shelf area, find the ashes. They were layered, perfectly settled into the exact shapes of my papers and books. I touched one of the rectangular mounds and it collapsed under my finger, a velvety soft indent pressed perfectly into the side of a grey dead book. My field guides were gone somewhere in those piles of ash but I didn't think of them at that moment. I just felt hollow and numb and nothing.

My life moved on twisting and turning in bizarre sorts of ways but here I am now writing about Easter baskets, schmaltz, homeschooling, and today Mulberries.

We were outside again, me and the after school gang. Looped over my shoulder was my hand sewn canvas bag (one of my previous watching projects) and slipped inside was a brand new copy of one of my beloved field guides - The National Audubon Society Field Guide to Trees, Western Region. I had the Eastern version before, but now fifteen years later, I had the Western since I anticipated the Army moving our family to Arizona before the end of the year.

The neighbor girl trotted up to me waving a leafy twig in her hand, bumpy green berries nestled under the leaves. "Mai's mom, what's this?"

"I don't know, let me see. Where did you get it from?" I looked at the branch and she pointed to a tree nearby. Instantly, I knew it was a mulberry tree. In those same Midwestern years my friends and I would climb into the mulberry trees that grew on the edge of the cow pond. We feasted on berries and brought buckets home to our mothers. These berries looked different though, smaller, and I didn't remember how the leaves looked of those trees, although the spreading crown of the trees were pretty much the same.

"Hmmm.... I think its a mulberry tree. But I'm not sure."

"Whats a mulberry tree?"

"They have berries you can eat, see? But don't eat these ones, I'm not sure yet. They might be poisonous. You can never eat anything you find if you don't ask a grown up first. You never know, it might make you sick."

The girl's little brother piped up, "I already knowed that."

"Oh you did? Well. Let's find out if this one is good or not. Look, I have a book that will teach me everything about trees."

I sat in the shade of the mulberry tree and the children gathered around. I showed them the pictures and the identifying tabs that grouped the trees together. I didn't find it right away so they went back to playing but I searched until I found the entry.

"Look! come see!" I pointed to the page and they came running back, now with one more boy then there was before. "It's a mulberry tree. It's a Texas Mulberry. It's different then the ones I had when I was a kid." And then I told them about the cow pastures and the country. They could hardly hold still though and all began clambering for the tree to climb up.

Admist whinings and pushings and admonishings all the children got their turns in the tree. I would hoist one up and bring another one down until I told them I was done. But of course they weren't so they did some problem solving while I sat and read my book. Mai drove her blue truck to the base of the tree and they stood on the hood and pulled themselves up. At times I would remind them to take turns and be careful of the truck but all went well. A new boy rode up now in his waggle type seated scooter and asked what was going on then joined the crew in and around the base of the tree.

They kept shouting asking questions and I kept explaining. They tried knocking off the green berries but I told them not to since there wouldn't be any left to ripen.

"We can come back every day and check to see when they're ripe. We have to be quick and get them before the birds do!"

So for the next three days we came to the tree. The children got better at climbing and I offered pointers.

"When you step on a branch you have to make sure it's as wide as your arm. If it's smaller than your arms its not strong enough to hold you." and "Climb with your arms, not your legs! Pull!"

The big kids were getting higher now and had me a bit concerned. But I encouraged them all the same and told them how to safely jump down as well.

Then one of the big boys said, "Hey, do you know how to climb trees?"

"Yes, I used to be a master tree climber when I was a kid. I climbed a tree that was taller than a two story house!" (You have to impress the big kids to get them to like you. Just don't go too far or you'll regret it.) "But that was a long time ago. I haven't climbed a tree for years."

He seemed satisfied with my answer and brought me over to another tree. He said he'd been trying to climb this one for days. He showed me the spot he got stuck in and asked me if I could do it. "I can give it a try." So I did, and there I was, up in a tree again! I even asked him to take a picture for me.

The children and I harvested the mulberries when they were ripe and talked about what I would make. Maybe pie, or jelly, or scones. Of course then I had to explain what a scone was. We harvested berries for two days. The first a full bucket, the second scrounging up what the birds had missed, and on the third there was not a ripe berry left in sight.

Plenty of green ones are now left in the branches so we'll keep a close watch and try to beat the birds for the next round. I decided to dry the berries so they wouldn't rot while we wait for the next harvest to come in. I keep walking into the kitchen to look at, feel, and smell the mulberries. Just like before, back in Missouri, when I had found Jerusalem Artichoke, Black Walnuts, or Plantain, I feel proud and happy with my work.

Now, with Mai and Volund, I feel even more eager to teach them everything I can learn. I'm eager to think how someday they will just know these things, as well as they know the car they drive or the clothes they wear, maybe they'll look at the growing things and know how much they can live from whats already there. Despite anything we may have lost, God's world is always there. Always beautiful, bountiful, and enough.