Gifts from nature and our new land. A cross between a blueberry and a raspberry. Juicy and tasting of early summer, these gifts plentiful across the vast branches of the trees we could not identify. This is indeed a new world of beauty and bounty.
Mulberries. I had heard the name but had never experienced them. I walk to the chicken coop to let the ladies and gentleman out as the sun peeks over the tree tops. I gather the berries that have turned mostly purple-black and bring them into the kitchen, fingers painted, and we sample them. Put them in oatmeal.
The bumper crop awaits. Tomorrow morning we must gather before the squawking blackbirds beat us to every gem. Dreams of mulberry wine, mulberry gin, dried mulberries, frozen mulberries, mulberry jam, fresh mulberries on violet stained hands.
And so summer begins.