Foraging for Fall Fruit

 

Wild Grape vines

In the fall, my partner and I forage for Wild Grapes.  They grow all over our area in the wild spaces between the local walking/cycling trail and people’s backyards or between the trail and marshland.  Over the past few years we have remembered where the best grapes are to be found but weather patterns play a big part in the quality of the grapes from year to year.  We only take what we can reach and leave the high ones for the birds.  Sometimes, we are a bit late and there are lots of grapes that have shriveled and dried up.  

At home, my partner extracts the juice from the grapes and then we make Wild Grape jelly which we share with our friends and family.  Nature is generous and we give people a taste of that generosity in the early winter.  The jelly tastes like Welch’s Grape Jelly and so for anyone our age, this is a fabulous taste that magically transports us to a place of childlike wonder.

It is interesting that when you are foraging for a specific plant, you scan the wild areas looking for say, Grape vines.  They can be found hanging from trees, wound around shrubs or crawling across the ground.  Poison Ivy is along the edges of most of the trail so grapes that are touching Poison Ivy leaves are left for the squirrels and chipmunks.  It is important to be able to recognize Poison Ivy leaves and we have become very good at scanning for them.  Apparently ingesting the oily resin that causes a skin rash is an extremely bad idea.  I, for one, do not need to be told this twice.

Wild Grapes on the vine with yellowish green grape leaf at bottom,
Note the greenish brown stalks on the grapes.

The other thing we have to scan for is False Virginia Creeper.  It has totally different leaves which are now turning red but the berries look just like grapes.  The only problem is that the fruit of the False Virginia Creeper is poisonous.  Sometimes the leaves have all fallen off and your eye gravitates to the little blue grape-like berries.  This is when you have to know that the stems on those berries are bright red, like the leaves and they come out at awkward looking angles as if warning us not to eat them.

Grape leaf on left and 5 lobed reddish False Virginia Creeper leaves on right.  In front of the grape leaf are False Virginia Creeper berries that closely resemble Wild Grapes.  However, the stems are bright red and are set at awkward angles.

And then, there are the Nannyberries.  Unlike the Wild Grape and False Virginia Creeper which are vines, the Nannyberry is a shrub with single ovate leaves that are now turning orangey red.  The Nannyberries which are in the High Bush Cranberry family, hang from orange stems in a cluster.  There are no awkward angles here.  They are much more graceful looking.  And Nannyberries are edible and delicious.  They are in taste and texture like a prune with a single flat pit.  False Virginia Creeper berries are like grapes inside with many pits in a mucilaginous interior.  I know because I crushed one on the trail to check.

Nannyberries.  Note the single ovate orangey red leaves and orange stems
on the berries that hang in a graceful cluster.

This information is all very important because sometimes you can find a False Virginia Creeper vine wrapped around a Nannyberry bush.  I saw one last night.  The Creeper had lost all of its leaves already and so the berries looked like they were part of the Nannyberry bush.  But, the stems were red (not orange) and at awkward angles (not graceful).  I traced the stems back to vines that mimicked the bushes branches.  They almost had me fooled.  And there were lots of them.  I got excited to see so many but then took a closer look and discovered my mistake before it was too late.

When I am foraging and paying such close attention to the berries, I forget all about the pandemic and the fear, the fatigue and the frustration that humans are experiencing during these times.  I am totally in the moment, examining the plants for their characteristics and getting a good eye for berries.  I am renewing my relationship with these plants.  I thank them for sharing what is edible for us and for the beauty of the leaves of the poisonous ones.  The white and purple Asters and bright yellow Goldenrod along with the orange and red Sumacs, yellowish green grape leaves and the red of the Creepers and Nannyberries are a feast for my eyes.  And every now and then I pop a Nannyberry into my mouth and savour the sweetness or a tart Wild Grape that makes my mouth pucker.

Last night, we foraged alongside marshland.  Huge flocks of blackbirds swooped over our heads making loud whooshes as they passed.  The warm breeze brought the smells of the marsh and the flowers to our noses.  It was magical.

As I carefully scrutinized the leaves and berries that I came across, I thought about how we are all having to make decisions about things in our lives.  Some choices will bring nourishment and joy while other things will bring ill health and pain.  We have to scrutinize the things in our lives and in our world carefully to see which is which.  We have been fooled by people who present a look alike version or alternative facts about what is good for individuals, for communities and all the other than human life on Earth.  Sometimes, it seems too good to be true, like the Creeper berries on the Nannyberry bush.  It is time for us to look carefully at what is on offer.  After all, not every dark purple round fruit is edible

A cluster of Wild Grapes.  But you knew that by now, didn't you?

The Tale of the Birch Toad

 

At first glance, it seemed to be the stump of an old Yellow Birch tree.  The long roots that grew straight up above the ground before meeting the trunk, left an empty space between them.  Yellow Birch like to start their young lives in the stump of a fallen tree and they grow their roots around the edge of the stump, down into the ground.  Over time, the nursery stump rots, leaving an empty space and making the tree look like it is standing on legs.  And now, the birch that grew on the stump, was a stump itself.   The top of it had rotted and had been chiseled and sculpted by woodpeckers so that a long face appeared, there in what was left of the trunk.  It looked for all the world like a giant toad propped up on its front legs, resting on its huge hind ones and looking straight at her.

The fact that Anna’s vision was not, shall we say, crystal clear, created an interesting collection of neural impulses that her cataracted eyes sent to her aging brain.  It was like some kind of a game.  “Oh, I know,” suggested the brain.  “It’s a giant toad!”  She laughed at that suggestion but then thought, “Whose to say it isn’t?”

She sat down on a fallen log nearby and gazed at the Birch Toad.  What if it isn’t just a tree?  What if it’s a giant toad that lived long ago, or perhaps still lives, but is trapped in the body of a tree, or it sleeps, waiting for a kiss, like the Frog Prince, in order to trans mutate into something else?

It was then that she heard the deep voice.  It was a little gravely as if it hadn’t been used in a long while.  At first, she couldn’t make out what it said as her ears worked about as well as her eyes.  But, it came again. 

“Yes, you’ve hit on it.”

Intrigued, she leaned forward, trying to remember what she had thought.  “Then, you are a giant toad?” she asked.

“No.  The one after that,” said the voice.

“You aren’t really a toad?”

“No.  And I’m not really a tree,” came the reply

“Tell me about that,” she said.

“It’s a long story and | haven’t told it in a long time.  You are the first person that has asked.”

“I have the time.  I have nothing but time,” she offered.

“I know the feeling.  Perhaps you can sit a little closer.”

Thinking that she had nothing to fear, she moved to a stump that was closer to the Birch-toad-not-toad-something-else and leaned forward, elbows on her knees and chin resting on her hands.

“Very well, I shall begin,” croaked the voice.

“Before now, before all of this strangeness, this land was covered in trees and many, many different plants.  The river behind us was deeper and there were many animals that lived here.  I don’t know all the names that you would use for these animals, but I will send you pictures of them.”

Suddenly, the image of a deer popped into her mind.  And then a fox, a wolf, squirrel, chipmunk, porcupine, fisher, otter, weasel, mink, lynx, hundreds of birds, wild turkeys, salmon, trout and other fish, flowers, plants, insects, butterflies, crawling bugs and more. The pictures flashed through her mind. The forest was thick and green and the mighty trees towered overhead.

“Oh,” she gasped.  “So, beautiful.”

The voice paused to acknowledge her emotion.  Then it continued, “The people who lived here with us took only what they needed.  They always showed respect.  They gave back and they took care of the forest.  We didn’t mind sharing with them.  We were happy to provide for their needs.  We had treaties, relationships and we honored them as did they.  This was all we knew.

Until,” the voice paused slightly, “strangers appeared in the forest.  We were willing to share with them, to care for them, to provide for them.  But, they never spoke to us.  They took but were never satisfied.  They began by cutting down the trees.  Not just a few for housing or firewood, but all of them.  The animals and birds lost their homes and had to flee.  They killed many of them as well.  The river was full of branches and broken trees.  The water tried to wash away their pain, but it was too much and it backed up, flooding the land.  As the trees disappeared, these strangers dug up the soil and turned it over, killing all the other plants.  They burned the tree stumps and killed the tiny creatures in the soil.  This soil is sandy and without the roots to hold it, it blew away when the winds came..  Some animals disappeared from here.”

At this, images of Wild Turkeys, Trumpeter Swans and Canada Geese flashed in her mind.  Yes, she knew they had been extirpated years ago and then later reintroduced.

“Once they found out that the land was not good for their desires, many of the strangers ran away just like the animals and the soil.  But, I had to stay.  I had to hide and to wait.  That was a very lonely time and there weren’t very many places to hide, but I always found somewhere."

"After some time, different people came here and planted tiny trees.  They seemed to lack imagination, or maybe they didn’t know how things used to be.  Those who did the damage, those who remembered what it was like when they first came were all dead by then.  The original people remembered but they were taken away and silenced.  The new planters liked straight lines and sameness.  The trees did hold the soil down with their roots and some other plants grew as well but it wasn’t like it used to be.  The first strangers left plants that they had brought with them from far away and these plants joined the forest.  Some of those plants did not know how to cooperate with the life that was already here.  They were confused about how to fit in, just like the people who brought them here."

"I couldn’t stay in the new forest.  I had to move around, to find places of shelter.  I couldn’t leave because, you see, I hold the memory of this land.  I hold the stories and the knowledge.  I haven’t always been where you find me now.  There have been other trees that provided a safe space.  Over time, this area that you are in, listened to me and remembered itself.  The birds and animals brought the seeds for the trees that grew and protected the soil.  The wind helped to bring more seeds for the other plants and the animals followed.  The trees protected the river bank and created rain so that the river kept on running.  It has taken time but the land is healing.”

“Yes, it is very beautiful in this part of the forest,” agreed Anna.  “But, the other part, with all the pines growing in straight lines is having trouble.  Not much grows underneath those pine trees.”

“Those people keep on cutting down those pine trees now that they are tall,” resumed the voice.  “And they are not planting new ones.  They are letting the other trees fill in the gaps.  The pine needles are not very friendly to most trees, but slowly that part of the land is remembering as well.  It takes time to heal such wounding.”

The woman felt the sadness of the wounding, as if it were happening in her own body and she sighed.  “Thank you for telling me this story,” she said.  “I didn’t know about what happened here.”  She paused, listening for the voice.  She felt that it was waiting for her to say something.  But what?   Then it came to her.  “Is there anything you would like me to do as a person, to help the forest?” she asked.

“Thank you for asking,” said the voice.  “As a matter of fact, there is.  I have been trying to get your attention for a few weeks now as you walk by.  I can tell that you love the land.  The relationship between people and this land needs to heal.  The land needs to experience respect and reciprocity with people.  I have watched you make an offering to the river and certain trees.  I have watched you ask permission before you pick the wild leeks, garlic mustard and dandelion leaves and give something back.  I can tell that those plants have honoured you by the energy that you have around you."

"This is what you can do.  You can walk this land every day that you can, in all kinds of weather.  You can greet each new plant and tree that emerges and tell them how beautiful they are.  You can learn their names, and the order that they appear in the spring.  You can watch them create flowers and seeds and learn their patterns.  You can sing to them as you sing to the river.  There is a lot of healing to do and you are not the only one.  It will take as long as it takes.  And of course, the forest will take care of you as it always has.  It will offer you surprises and gifts, healing resins to breath in and plants to nourish you.  Every breath you take in has been breathed out by the trees and they breathe in your breath.  As you learn more about reciprocity with the land, you can share this with other people.  That is what is needed.”

“I can do that,” she said, nodding her head slowly. 

“I will be watching,” said the voice.  “And I will be here if you have any questions.  That’s my job.”

In the silence that followed, Anna sat on the stump and breathed in the breath of trees and then breathed out the gas that they breathed in.  A sudden movement on the trail before her snapped her focus into the present.  Bending over, she spied a small brown toad sitting still before her.  She burst out laughing and the toad hopped into the undergrowth and disappeared. And then she continued down the trail, singing.  She couldn’t hear it with her old ears, but the low voice echoed her song, sending healing waves out through the massive root structures beneath her feet. 

 

 

Making Space for a New Story

 

I spent part of Saturday up on the roof of our shed.  The view from there was surprising.  From the midst of a Sugar Maple’s branches and leaves I could see the roof of our house and the upstairs window of the house next door.  It gave me an idea of the squirrels’ point of view.  The view felt new and fresh, like I’d never seen our yard and house before.  I was just eight feet higher than normal and it felt brand new.

The shed roof had been leaking through the press board that the original builder had used for the roof.  We had to pull off the old shingles and remove about forty square feet of wood.  Parts of it had rotted right through.  We threw all the old and broken pieces over the side into the wheelbarrow below so that we had space to add new wood and shingles.  Handling all that asphalt made me wonder about the way we build structures in this part of the world and the short term view that we take for long term buildings.

We used perfectly good recycled wood from a friend’s old shed to create a new roof, then added tar paper and new shingles from the discount pile at the lumber store.  I had to be aware of where my body was and how I moved while climbing the ladder and traversing the low-pitched roof top.  I had to wear gloves to protect my hands from the roof shingles and be careful not to fall through the open area before the new wood was in place.  Dismantling and rebuilding requires care and concentration.

I got to thinking, later on when I was safely on the ground, about repairing the water damaged roof.  The rotted wood had to be removed before dry wood was put in place.  Sometimes dismantling is an important part of repairing.  I thought about dismantling systems we have in place in our society when we discover that they are beyond repair.  We could have put new shingles over the wet rotted wood, but it might not have withstood the snow load in the winter.  Some of our damaged systems are not able to withstand the load of the pandemic.

Our next door neighbours had two huge century-old Sugar Maples on their front yard.  Last year one of them, after showing signs of ill health for years, died.  The neighbours were trying to sell their house so they had the tree cut down and removed.  Now, a year later, we have had a lot of rain and mushrooms have sprouted up from the dead maple roots.  Little white fungal markers in the green lawn show where these roots are now rotting.  This does not pose a problem.  The fungus will help to break down the wood and it will be reabsorbed into the Earth, sharing its stored nutrients as it does so.  The trunk and branches exist only in my memory but what was always invisible to my eyes is now marked by mushrooms.  The underground world will dismantle this part of the tree and new growth will emerge from the Earth in its place.

And then a friend shared this video called Tending the Wild (above) with me.  Traditional knowledge keepers share the practices of cultural burns to keep the forests in California healthy.  Their understanding is that fire suppression has led to forests with dead trees that are the fuel for wild fires.  The change in worldview from seeing forests as resources to seeing forests as home is the key.  You know when your home needs cleaning up, they say.  Fire, death and dismantling are all parts of life that allow for new growth and health.  This is a change of story for the mainstream Western worldview.  But we have teachers all around us and we can tell a new story.

Reweaving the Centre

 Here is a story that someone shared on-line that I found fascinating.  See what you think:

“There's an old Irish myth about how when the center falls apart, when there is no big unifying story that can be told in public so that everyone remembers, yes, we all are in this together, when that happens, when the center cannot hold, the old story says then it's time for each person to go to the margins and the edges of life. Because the center when it's missing does not completely disappear. Rather, the elements of the center are then found at the margins and edges of life. And so it becomes a time for each person to go to the edge that attracts them and at the same time causes them to be fearful.

And the old story says that if each person goes in the direction that is both attractive and fearful to them, they will find that at the edge of their life a thread, and if each person would then pick up that thread and begin to pull it back towards the center, then the unifying center can be remade from the weaving together of many individual threads of life. In the greater myth that serves life, not death, no one has to be heroic and do it all or claim that they are the only one who can do it. Each person is just responsible to find their thread and find a way to weave it back into life. And the key to this narrative of the great way is that no one can be excluded for any reason, not because of their age, or their origin, or their race, or their economic disposition. Because each person has a life thread that has vitality and meaning and creativity in it.

And the point isn't to indulge in some kind of magical thinking that would say that no one is going to die on this troubled path that we all share at this point. And certainly, the point cannot be that we're all going to go back to life and business as usual. The understanding of the bigger myth right now is the world as we knew it is already gone. The point now is to be inhabiting a bigger, unifying living myth in which the words that we are all in this together have genuine, heartfelt meaning. We are in a time of radical change throughout the world, where life and death are struggling on a daily basis. And that requires each of us to change and come out of the crisis as greater souls not smaller people.”

- Michael Meade

You can also watch Michael Meade tell this story here after about ten minutes and then he tells another story and weaves them all together.  Meade challenges us to go to the edge that attracts us and scares us and there we will meet the world that is waiting to be born and we can bring that thread back to the centre.  Check it out: