Blackberries

Yesterday while walking with friends through the off-leash dog park and on along the rails bordering the waterfront, we stopped and picked blackberries. Blackberries brought to this part of the country from overseas. Not the native variety, which grow close to the ground and have a berry the size of a child's thimble, but the fat blackberries the size of a an adult thimble. They were sweet and juicy, drippy. Eating them caused us to talk about picking blueberries—they are ripe now and easy to pick because they are abundant on the bushes. And then huckleberries, ripe soon in the mountains. My first husband and I would ride the Bridgestone from Hill's Resort at Priest Lake into the mountains and pick coffee cans full of berries. We could sell them to the resort for the pies they made for the customers. One woman who lived nearby and worked at the resort was the best pie baker of all the hired help—although I came in a close second. I could make a flaky crust as delicate as a grandmother's. I was only 20 at the time, or perhaps 19, as I married young.

A friend of mine said to me after I'd told her my parents had both been married four times, that they must have really believed in marriage. I thought about "believing" in marriage and decided it wasn't a belief, at least not a personal belief, like a belief in God, but a cultural more. You got married—and had a family. That is what you did. And when my mother was young, perhaps also 19, she was to have a marriage or what? live at the base with my grandmother and aunt and keep house, maybe bake pies while Grandpa was off being a Colonel or whatever he was. So marriage is like having a job, you just do it. It's an organizational solution for the population. And of course, a procreation solution.

In the garden, you can marry plants. They are called companion plants, marigolds alongside lettuce to keep away the slugs, onions next to tomatoes to keep away small flies, nasturiums next ot cabbage, potatoes and beans. For more about this subject see Carrots Love Tomatoes Another way to marry plants is to graft one plant to another. This can be done with fruit trees. I have never done it but studied closely the diagrams. I'm pretty sure that if I tried it, all I'd have is a wounded plant and a dead graft. Well perhaps a peruse through Grafting and Budding might help. And hopefully this isn't my secret view of marriage. I'm sure it's not. Marriage is a good thing. And I hope that someday I'll have a partner again. I like how partners can work together, support each other, care and concern is there, love. Well, not always, but ideally.

Best companion,
Flower

Picking Raspberries

Two plots over from my community garden is a nice row of raspberries. I wandered along that row the last time I was in the garden and was drawn to pick and eat, of course, (who wouldn't be?) a succulent berry. When I was young this same urge got me scolded by Irene Grimmer, a neighbor, I was only five. I was playing with her girls in their back yard and too a break to forage at the fence, eating handfuls of berries. She called me to come and sit at the picnic table and to help her with the snap beans. Since I'm very obedient I wandered to the table and peeled the strings off the beans and snapped them in half. It was a big mess of beans all the kids and she were working on. I pouted the whole time because I was so thoroughly enjoying the raspberries.

So there I stood the other day, eyeing the berries, feeling slightly guilty as I reached to pick a rip one and pop it in my mouth. Ah, the delicious sweet and tangy and assertive flavor. I ate another and then another and then I got a phone call.

Cell phones in the garden, tsk, tsk. I usually take calls out to the perimeter of the garden, out of respect for the contemplative nature of the place. And especially since it is frequently the ex, which means an argument--most likely that is--although I don't recall right now what we spoke of. Probably my jealousy and anger over him ditching me for something greener.

Raspberry sauce on cream cheese, fresh raspberries with cream, raspberries on ice cream, raspberry lemonade. Ah, change the subject. Oh and the weather. Looks like we might have another cold day on our hands and a little more rain. The air has that chill in it and truthfully, folks are worrying about an early fall. I was awake in the night, not worried about fall, but worried about the zucchini that might be giants by now. They were just fingers the other day, but it has been a couple of days now. I will go by today and weed and pick. I should have a nice spinach salad with baby zucchini for dinner. I can eat with the sheep cheese I took to the wedding shower last night where we drank margaritas until they came out our ears and ate lovely barbecued chicken, sausage, shrimp, and scallops. The scallops were to die for. Oh, and the cake--what do you think the filling was? Raspberry--of course. A sweet filling between layers of tender white cake and a raspberry glaze on top of a butter cream white chocolate icing. Soooo good that I came home with a stomach ache. Just a little too much of a good thing.

There are wild raspberries and blackberries in the woods right now. The other day I picked my first blackberry. Perhaps this year I will put up a few pints of blackberries, enough for some jam or pancakes this coming winter would be nice. I have a recipe for rice flour pancakes that tastes great with real maple syrup, and they're nice and fluffy, for those with gluten intolerance it's a treat. If you are looking for recipes, try Gluten-Free Baking I find it easy and delicious to bake gluten-free.

Best in Gardening,
Flower

PS The pretty white flower has twined itself through the berries. Get rid of this pest, wild morning glory is a no-no.