Monday I got a surprise package in the mail. It was a scrunchy little brown box about 4 inches by 4 inches, squished on the corners like it was made from a bigger box. I love it…it took time to craft and I appreciate that. I spent a long time with it before I before takin the next step. It must have had nine different stamps…and I studied the outside just wonder’n what in the world would be comm’in to me like that. I didn’t recognize the post mark or the print, but it was rounded and small…so I thought for sure it was from a chubby short lady with a sense of adventure (cause of all the stamps)
Given I’m not paranoid…I finally stopped toying with it and cut the tape that held the corners together. It didn’t take a minute to recognize the headlines of my hometown newspaper wrapped around and poked in the sides of the box. Under that, the single layer of bubble wrap distorted a second set of round letters that I recognized in a minute as Blackberry Jam – Summer 2009.
Well, my heart did a flip-flop and I started salivat’n right there at the kitchen counter. Fresh blackberry jam..pure gold. Lord, the hours that go into that. A gift from the Gods…conjured up by a little round lady that used to live next-door to my Momma and remembered it was my birthday. Her note was short…”she knew I had a lot on my plate…and she hoped this would make it all taste better. X’s and O’s and a smiley face. Now that's a gift!
I know I often go on and on about watermelons…and I do love’um…the queen of the summer fruits, are made for shar’in and I love to share…but I’ve got a secret side…and it’s a little greedy. It comes out long about July when I see the tiny white blossoms I’ve been watchin’ since June give way to red; and long about the end of July, turn deep and sweet indigo, the color of temptation.
I say temptation cause they grow in places that usually have a “no trespassin” sign not too far away; they're usually across the road, on hills and hard to get to places. Places that are protected by a host of natures border guards; chiggers and poison ivy, thorns and knats. Even though I know I’m gonna get eaten, bitten and stabbed I go…cause they don’t last long.
So after I fight off the bees and swat at the mockin’ birds who treat me like the thief that I am, I eat’um right there, washed by the rain or coated in summer pollen, doesn’t matter, Kiss’um up to God and thank Miss Universe cause on New Year’s day I always share…it’s Deep Dish Love at our house…as traditional as black-eyed peas and greens. It’s my offerin’ for the gift for another year and another summer.
It is not just the chiggers and the gnats or even the occasional black snake that lies in wait among the blackberry bushes for the careless bird that makes picking those wonderful berries tricky. It is BABE, the big, white mare that rules the pasture where the blackberry patch is located. Babe is a friendly sort of half-ton creature and a tad nosy as females of her age are apt to be. If you enter her domain for any reason, you will find her quickly at your side. As she plops a dainty hoof next to one's flip-flopped shod foot, you are reminded that she is at home and you are an interloper in her pasture. Another word of warning - don't set down and leave unattended your blackberry container. Babe has been caught with berry seeds between her not so dainty teeth. Not fair, as she can pick so much higher up on the bush than the short, round lady.
ReplyDeleteLove the Babe! Thanks Kathy for fillin us in on the real risk in the pasture. TL
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