At the edge of the park - three walks from long ago.

April 2012*

The mulberry tree -

We started the walk in spite of the ominous atmosphere - we are at the tail end of those storms that have devastated the middle of the country. Our spirits were briefly lifted when we spied a little grey bird with nesting material in its beak.

But two blocks later we happened upon a "gang" of buzzards (not one, not two, not three, FOUR) perched on the ridge of an empty house...creepy...

We continued on hoping to finish the walk before the storms are here (and Mike hoping to finish the walk before HIS Sunday Morning begins). But I remembered…

I hand off the leash as we turn for home and tell the FUM not to worry if I am another 20 or 30 minutes.

I remembered the mulberry.

This is my third mulberry tree. The first was at the scout hut "back home." I didn’t even know what a mulberry was, but my friend, Suz, did. The tree was far enough down the road in one direction to avoid the notice of the property owner and in the other direction to skirt the attention of our leaders (sorry Mom and Mrs. A!). We hit all the low hanging fruit and then climbed the brittle limbs for more…eating those berries by the grubby little handful…resulting in stained t-shirts, purple hands and a few tummy aches. The berries lasted for about two meetings and were gone…

Fast forward to 1978, Speedway, Austin, Texas. A car-less student gets to know the neighborhood pretty well (especially between the neighborhood grocery store, the shuttle stop and her apartment). And that spring I was greeted by those wine-dark berries. It was a mature tree with fruit enough for a couple of pies…a comforting, homey week or so…a diversion from contracts and torts and property and “why am I doing this?”…

I have lived in my current home for 22 years. I started walking to the park more recently, but I never noticed this tree until last year. It was the end of the “harvest” and there were few berries – just enough to recognize the tree for what it was.

This tree stands at the edge of the woods, at the edge of the park, at the edge of what appears to be city right-of-way. Only a small part of the tree is within reach as the rest is protected by brambles and brush. And yesterday it whispered to me, “I am here, remember? And the berries are ready.” And so they were, the first picking was hanging ready for me.

I gathered all the fruit I could reach. So much is high over my head. I cannot climb trees anymore, but this friend gave me enough for jam, or pie, or muffins. And there will be more.

I walked home with my bag heavy, stained t-shirt and purple hands. Some things do not change…

NOTES:

*FB reminded me of this post. I looked to see it this was saved here too and I didn't see it. So I am saving it now. This tree is still standing at the edge of the park, but it has been dramatically cut back. I haven't picked mulberries again.