Mulberries
When I was child, we had a big, mulberry tree in our backyard. I loved those berries. I couldn't wait for them to turn dark, dark purple. Sometimes I'd try to eat them when they we only red, and had to spit them out for their sourness.
It was very labor intensive picking the soft berries by hand. One year I had a very bright idea; I needed to spread some material under the tree and then shake the branches to release the berries. Good idea; bad execution. I chose one of my mothers' white sheets for the cloth. The day was hot and the berries were very, very ripe. And, like most berries, they stained. My mother was not happy with the very artsy purple dyed sheet I presented her with that day.
Over the years, washing and bleach faded the splashes of purple. My mother's re-telling of that story never faded.
This memory was triggered by the bowl of blackberries I ate this morning. They may not be as sweet as my memory of the mulberries, but when I added milk and a little sugar - mmmm, it took me back.
It was very labor intensive picking the soft berries by hand. One year I had a very bright idea; I needed to spread some material under the tree and then shake the branches to release the berries. Good idea; bad execution. I chose one of my mothers' white sheets for the cloth. The day was hot and the berries were very, very ripe. And, like most berries, they stained. My mother was not happy with the very artsy purple dyed sheet I presented her with that day.
Over the years, washing and bleach faded the splashes of purple. My mother's re-telling of that story never faded.
This memory was triggered by the bowl of blackberries I ate this morning. They may not be as sweet as my memory of the mulberries, but when I added milk and a little sugar - mmmm, it took me back.
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it wasn't really mine, since it grew in the neighbor's yard right behind us, but the fence was only 6 feet tall, chain link, so I'd climb up and stand on the top of the fence and feast. the birds got the higher ones, but I had my fill, and I guess the neighbor never minded. I didn't stain any sheets, but my fingers were purple up to the first or second joint, depending on how long I stood there.
okay, now I'm curious. how do mulberries compare to blackberries? I wonder if I can find some in Chicago next month.
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