mulberries in Staples parking lot are going off.  black & white fruits make jam smear on the sidewalk and down the grassy bank.  i pick enough to start a batch of honeywine.  the white berries are fat and pale like grubs, the ripest gone slightly pink.  there’s a line of cars leading up to the stoplight; i offer berries through an open window to a woman and baby.  ( babies look like grubs ! )

new batch of lavender mulberry honeywine

there’s so much fruit here; i linger wondering if i can tip someone off to the bounty ?  i’m not catching eyes with anyone.  hey, there’s someone in a tree–a man with a bag, and he’s picking.  i tell him there’s good picking on the other side of the lot, farther from the traffic.  i didn’t climb, so there’s still plenty to bring down.

i head over to the library for some lavender blossoms.  there’s an abandoned herb garden here, and i’m thinking i’ll batch lavender with mulberries and summer thistle honey–this will be a cordial for quiet company, evenings, sensitive beings.

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