2 quarts

I'm guessing we've picked well over two quarts of mulberries so far. This morning, Lilias and I walked over and picked our breakfast. The tree is in pretty bad shape, with many branches nearly touching the ground--which makes it perfect for an eager two year old. A homeless man walked by shortly after we started picking and we offered him a handful. He offered us some friendly mulberry tree related conversation. It struck me as odd that as a person with plenty to eat I am free to forage without anyone bothering me, whereas I'm guessing if the homeless man did the same, he would be run off. Perhaps not.

An acquaintance-friend of ours is working to start a yard sharing csa program in the poorest part of Waco. The basic idea (as I understand it) is that poor homeowners could farm their backyards with organic produce under the guidance of the World Hunger Farm and then sell produce at a farmer's market (in addition to eating it themselves) or have shares purchased for the produce like they do at our CSA.

Urban Foraging Season

My urban foraging season has officially begun. A mulberry tree down the street is ripe and apparently ignored by everyone else. Hurray! I already have a good bit of berries frozen. So exciting! I love mulberries! I love foraging! Hurray for usufruct!

Storm

Yesterday's storm did a number on my patio garden. Pretty sure the eggplant is toast, and some swiss chard and sweet basil aren't looking so hot either. We'll see what pulls through.

Time to cozy up with Madeleine L'Engle's Walking on Water. A most excellent book.

Brownies and Rain

There's a downpour going on. I love rainstorms. We ate lentil stew, homemade bread, and brownies (containing 8 eggs and 4 sticks of butter) for dinner.

I am thankful for Sam and Lilias. Sam is singing "Rudolf the Rednose Reindeer" to Lilias right now. Lilias loves Christmas songs, and often walks around our place saying to no one in particular "it's so hard to wait for Christmas." (Always with her head cocked to the side.)

I am reminded today of how desperately we need to remember our own stories. How the Israelites frequently forgot their own history, and how this got them again and again into trouble...the same is true for me. It is a constant temptation to rewrite our own stories. I need Ebeneezers sunk deep into the ground.

It was a grey cloud kinda day. Which prompting some writing, chai making, guitar playing, fluting, and harmonica piddling. Not a bad exchange. Now for some wine and maybe brownies. Blue skies ahead.

Lil's Favorite Song

"Silent Night, Holy Night,

AAAAAALLLLLL is Caaaaaaaaaalm,

AAAAALLLLLL is Bright,

Round the oven, mother 'n' child

so tender 'n' mild."

Resurrection?

I am considering attempting to perhaps be consistent about blogging. Before announcing this to anyone, I thought I'd try to make a few posts.