Our Eden
They were about the size of a grape and the color of mulberries, or at least what I imagine the color of mulberries to be, with a blush of pink. They tasted like jicama with a hint of flower. We plucked these creatures -- ripe or unripe, who knows -- from a thicket on the side of Christina’s house. Were they even edible? I have no idea -- apparently, because I’m not dead yet; it’s a tribute to guardian angels I’m not. It must have been spring or summer because I can feel the sun warming my long brown hair; I think I may even be barefoot. Michelle, Gloria -- and probably Christina -- and I stood in front of these huge bramble bushes and gathered as many berries as we could find. Biting into them was rather curious. The texture was oddly crunchy and watery. After eating one, you often felt the need to drink something from the cottony residue left in your mouth.
Why we ate from this unknown berry bush, I have no idea. We weren’t starved. We could have gone home to my backyard, where the tangerine tree was probably in full bloom and had a bushel-load of the ripest, juiciest, skin-falling-off tangerines you could ever want. Miss those things; no tangerine will ever compare. But no, we chose to harvest the bland fruit of a mystery berry bush without the permission of its owner.
There was another bush we ate from. It was a small little guy on the side of our house. Michelle told me we could eat from it, so of course, we did. There were no berries on this bush, however; we munched on the stems. It was a small green plant, the size of any smallish garden-variety shrub. The stems we pulled looked similar to cilantro, yet they were sour, almost like a lemon or a lime. It was rather yummy tasting for the pitiable size of the herb.
Farther down the block, toward the eerie Drum Barrack mansion, there was another berry bush sitting atop a chain-link fence. These berries were brilliant fire-engine red and very tiny. The bush was covered with thousands of them. These berries, however, were forbidden fruit. Michelle, our resident would-be botanist, explained that they were poisonous and that we weren’t to eat from this bush. How she knew any of this, my young neighbor friend, I’ll never know, but we didn’t touch it. We admired those shiny little berries; we even broke them apart to spy it's yellowish innards, but we heeded Michelle's warning, never tempting fate like Eve.
Makes me wonder what plants I have around the neighborhood that my kids will hunt out and eat. Scary. I should probably do some exploring.
Why we ate from this unknown berry bush, I have no idea. We weren’t starved. We could have gone home to my backyard, where the tangerine tree was probably in full bloom and had a bushel-load of the ripest, juiciest, skin-falling-off tangerines you could ever want. Miss those things; no tangerine will ever compare. But no, we chose to harvest the bland fruit of a mystery berry bush without the permission of its owner.
There was another bush we ate from. It was a small little guy on the side of our house. Michelle told me we could eat from it, so of course, we did. There were no berries on this bush, however; we munched on the stems. It was a small green plant, the size of any smallish garden-variety shrub. The stems we pulled looked similar to cilantro, yet they were sour, almost like a lemon or a lime. It was rather yummy tasting for the pitiable size of the herb.
Farther down the block, toward the eerie Drum Barrack mansion, there was another berry bush sitting atop a chain-link fence. These berries were brilliant fire-engine red and very tiny. The bush was covered with thousands of them. These berries, however, were forbidden fruit. Michelle, our resident would-be botanist, explained that they were poisonous and that we weren’t to eat from this bush. How she knew any of this, my young neighbor friend, I’ll never know, but we didn’t touch it. We admired those shiny little berries; we even broke them apart to spy it's yellowish innards, but we heeded Michelle's warning, never tempting fate like Eve.
Makes me wonder what plants I have around the neighborhood that my kids will hunt out and eat. Scary. I should probably do some exploring.
Comments