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!)
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. i tell him there’s better picking on the other side of the lot, farther from the traffic.
i head over to the library for lavender blossoms. there’s an abandoned herb garden there, and i’m thinking i’ll mix lavender with mulberries and summer thistle honey to make a cordial for quiet evening company.