Taming the Blackberry Thicket

March 9, 2014

First Day of Day Light Savings

            March. A fickle month. One day it can seem as though old man winter is still having his way with us, holding on with gnarled frozen fingers, sending temperatures into the teens and wind chills making things even worse. Then, as if by some magic trick, the sun emerges from the flat grey sky warming the air and temperatures climb to near 60 degrees! Indeed, can spring be far behind?

This afternoon, temperatures in the mid-40s, I ventured out to take a walk, my first walk in months and months, having been sequestered inside by single digits and more wind. Today as I strode down the road I was hopeful that this might be a real day of spring. Alas, wishful thinking. As I rounded the curve flanked by open fields the wind came up fiercely, bringing streams of tears trickling down my cheeks. I made an about face and headed in the direction of home. Now what? Still a great afternoon to be out of doors.

            Off to the garden I went, with loppers, heavy duty work gloves and my jacket whose outside shell is as strong as titanium...perfect for bearing up to the daunting task of pruning back the blackberry thicket. This is a March task if ever there was one. In order to safely attempt the job one has to be dressed properly...so the day has to be cold enough to wear such protection, yet not so windy that the canes swing around and rake your face with evil thorns. Indeed, it feels as though this plant has a mind of its own which most sincerely wants to protect its longevity. You tug on it and it tugs back! Wear a hat and in no time it has been snatched off your head! In ways it feels as though you are wading through and trying to prune back a massive thorny spider web who's every intention is to thwart your success.

            Having performed this springtime chore going on seven years now, I have come to realize there are two requirements essential to one's inner attitude: work slowly, don't hurry, and its corollary which enables the first one, be patient. As my 'chicken coach' and friend David once wisely said to me the day he meticulously off loaded my brand new chicken coop from the back of his flatbed trailer, placing it precisely on the foundation we had struggled to prepare, "nothing good ever comes from going fast". Wise words that serve many situations!

            In the meantime I had opened up the garden gate, braced it open with a stick so it would not slam shut in a gust of wind, and invited in 'the girls', my four beautiful chickens who, incidentally, are back to laying like champs and are thus, somewhat, earning their keep. As I struggled with the massive blackberry thicket, they most happily scratched in the left over straw mulch enthusiastically peering into the soil for whatever treasure it is that they excavate from below.

            The dogs kept watch over a neighbor clearing the final layers of snow on his drive, Lila barking out acknowledgement of his presence.

            This whole scene is one of such contentment: doing a necessary job in the season it needs to be done in, the animals thankful to be finally out in the sunlight and warmth....and as I worked I had to remind myself of the reason for this afternoon's effort: the possibility of blackberry cobbler or blackberry smoothies...or if I am really ambitious and all goes well, perhaps blackberry jam that could serve as Christmas presents.

            It is not wasted on me that perhaps this afternoon's work is a throwback to an earlier way of life. It would be far, far easier to simply purchase blackberries at the grocery store. But doing that would deny me of one of my most profound joys: the experience of engaging with the process of producing my own food, of having my hands quite literally in the soil, of connecting with the cycle of the seasons, all of which allows me to feel in tune and attuned with the Universe. Believe it or not this task , when seen for what it really is or means, has an almost sacred quality. It all makes sense to me.

            Someday I will no longer be able to do this, spend an afternoon in March pruning back the blackberry thicket. At the age of (almost) 62 I am well aware that life changes and with it our bodies respond to time. So for now I will savor this annual spring chore, my wrestling with an entity that resists my attempts to tame it and I will consider it fun!