We went to a snazzy open home on Saturday, 30 Swan Street in North Hobart. I took a dislike to it though because the kitchen was so self-consiously Jamie-Olivered up. It sold while we were there to a fat chain-smoking guy, so I hope they'll be very happy together.
But - there was a nice big tree shading the back lawn. I could see it was dropping fruit which had got squished into the grass. When i got closer I couldnt believe my eyes - this was a GIANT BLACKBERRY TREE. I tried one and they were fat and scrumptious.
Later Nick told me it was a mulberry tree. He and Anna lived next door at no. 28 for a few years.
Why has no-one told me about mulberries before?
WELL?
2 comments:
It's a well-kept secret because everyone thinks they are "giant blackberry trees". I ran across my first mulberry when I had the opportunity to list and sell a quaint 85 acre farm that had a HUGE mulberry tree in the backyard. The entire job of the lady of the house was to make mulberry food products along with other canning and freezing chores. Never in my life have I seen so many canned foods. It's an interesting miracle of nature to see a couple who can live mostly off their land -- fruits, veggies, deer. Fascinating and romantic (until you're the one doing it, of course). Not for me, but I love the vicarious thrill of seeing it happen near me.
We live in a vicarious age. Once you either saw someone do something or someone told you about it and you thought "gosh - I'D like to subdue a whole tribe TOO!"
Nowadays (a word I am using daily nowadays) we have so many media by which we can observe other people's lives.
Actually watching someone do something crafty/clever/skillful in real life is quite a rare event for me.
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