Late Summer Harvest

 

The Earth released her embrace

Allowing the plump white onion

To break free as the young girl

Tugged on its hollow green leaves.

Smiling, she placed it in the basket

And selected another and another.

 

Then came the generous Kale leaves,

Curly green textured delights

Snapped off at the base of their stems

By small hands absorbing tactile knowing

From being in relationship with each leaf.

 

A juicy beet pulled from the soil

Joined the beauty in the basket,

Food to be shared with the community

From the garden with the same name,

 

Meanwhile, little boys searched through

The jungle-like tangle of tomato leaves

In search of ripe red cherry tomatoes.

Bursts of warm delicious brightness

Exploding in their mouths with each treasure.

 

Later, alone, I carefully selected the delicate

Arugula and Mizuna leaves to join the offering.

One ear of corn has been nibbled on.

Torn husk leaves and missing kernels

Hint at the sharp teeth of a squirrel

Sharing in the abundance.

We picked the cob to save the seeds

As promises of next year’s garden.

 

Squashes, cucumbers and zucchinis

Expand almost as you watch them.

Each one finds its way to someone

Who will delight in their gift

From our common mother

Earth.

 

Blackberry's Community Wisdom

 The ancient Celts used the first alphabet in Europe which is called the Ogham script.  Each letter is associated with a tree or an important plant.  The alphabet was used as a mnemonic device to encode knowledge, the Celtic song of the universe, Ceolta na Cruinne (Diana Beresford-Kroeger).  The thirteen months of the year (pre-Gregorian calendar) were each represented by a particular tree.  The new year began on Nov. 1^st with Birch, followed by Rowan in December, Alder in January, Willow in February, Ash in March, Hawthorn in April, Oak in May, Holly in June and Hazel in July.  The “tree” associated with August is the Blackberry (Bramble) or Vine.

Some authors say that the plant for August representing Muin or the letter M, is the Blackberry or Bramble and others say the Vine.  Grapes were introduced to Ireland so the original plant was likely Blackberry.  Both grapes and blackberries are used to make wine so they are linked with intuition and prophecy.  They are both plants which bind themselves to other plants and are thus understood as connectors. These plants travel wherever they want.  Blackberry has roots that sucker up wherever they can.  Their branches grow out into space until they are heavy enough to touch the ground.  Then the tip produces a root.  In this way, the blackberry “leapfrogs” along.  Grapes send out strong tendrils to wind around whatever the plant is climbing on.  I have seen wild grapes cover a small tree and weigh it down once the grapes form.  Both these plants have a strong life force that can teach us about  the tenacity that comes from being both tough and flexible.  Blackberries brambles create a safe place for a community of beings including small mammals, birds and saplings.  In this way, it links different energies into a community.  Muin is also about weaving your consciousness with the consciousness of everything.

The Celtic knot is a never-ending thread of connection which represents Blackberry's characteristic of connecting beings into a community.  At the centre of the knot is the ripe Blackberry.  The violet in the loops of the knot represent intuition and inspiration.  The bright yellow of the sun represents the time of year, August, the festival of the sun god Lugh surrounded by the green of the plants and the blue of the water that brings life to all.  The Ogham script for Muin is at the bottom of the piece.

As I pondered the teachings of Blackberry with a small group of like-minded women, I could sense Blackberry wrapping around us, providing a safe container for us to open to its teachings.  We talked about the seeming opposite qualities of thorns which can really hurt human skin and the delicious soft, ripe berries.  One woman pointed out that it takes skill to reach through the thorny branches to pick a ripe berry.  You can’t just rush in there and take.  And it takes patience to wait for the berry to be ripe.  It won’t come away into your fingers unless it is ripe.

As an older woman, many of my friends are also older people.  After a few years of the pandemic, social changes, fear and uncertainty, I am noticing that some of my friends are struggling.  Age reduces one’s need to people please and be socially “nice”.  I notice that some of my friends can be quite thorny at times.  The ancestral and personal wounds that they have been carrying their whole lives are becoming more visible.  It takes some skill to not take their thorniness personally.  It takes patience to wait for those moments of beauty when their best selves shine through, like a delicious, ripe blackberry.  It takes skill to find a way for these experiences to act as connectors, weaving the safe space of community.  Walking away at every painful moment doesn’t build community.  Finding ways to stay connected does build community.

I have experienced the tenacity of blackberry’s life force as I seek to keep the Black Raspberry canes in one of my gardens from taking over the whole space.  The little plants pop up everywhere from suckering roots.  I usually don’t have my gardening gloves with me at this particular garden and so I try to pull out the little plants with my bare hands.  Sometimes, little thorns get left in my skin as a reminder.

This summer, my partner and I have been part of a new community garden in our village which I have already written about in this space.  Part of the idea for this garden is to let the plants teach us how to build community.  We have the Three Sisters; corn, beans and squash, which are companion plants, as the centrepiece of the circular garden. The squash is heading out in every direction now, putting roots down at nodal points where flowers and fruit also emerge.  My partner and I are experimenting with co-creating community with these plants.  When vegetables are ripe, we encourage people to pick them and take them home or we pick them and give them away.   Sometimes, this give away is to people who are visiting the park and sometimes we teach children how to harvest carrots, lettuce, kale, beets or zucchinis.  Little carrots can be washed off and eaten right there.  Food is a great connector as everyone eats. We hope that people will feel more connected to the plants and the Earth as they get their food from the garden.  And somehow this space will connect them all in the energy of community.

We like to walk as a form of exercise and since we live on the shores of Georgian Bay, walking is also a chance to take in the natural beauty that surrounds us.  As we walk through the village and along the shoreline trail, we encounter all kinds of people.  Some are year-round residents, some are cottagers and some are visitors.  I am imagining myself as a Blackberry branch that grows out into the air and then touches the earth and puts down roots.  Perhaps the act of going for a walk is grounded or rooted when I stop to chat to someone.  At times, we take vegetables to people’s homes and have a little chat.  We as humans have the ability to take the garden to the people. Perhaps all these acts of connection create a sense of community.  Blackberry would tell me that it is.

Often, when we pick a vegetable because it is at its best, I hold it and cast my mind out to see who might like it.  I access my intuition this way and often someone pops into my mind.  One evening, I had a nice big Golden Zucchini and some Kale that needed a home.  One of my neighbours popped into my mind as I held the food.  Trusting this intuitive lead, we set off on foot to her house and knocked on her door.  She was delighted to receive the food.  She told us that earlier that day, she had been driving past the garden and she was struck by the beauty of all the plants growing together.  She had also come across a zucchini recipe that day but didn’t have a zucchini.  Somehow, I had intuited her connection with the beauty of the garden and her desire for a zucchini and had walked the vegetables over to her house, like a long blackberry branch.

 

References:

Diana Beresford-Kroeger (2019) To Speak for the Trees. Random House: Canada.

Danu Forest (2014) Celtic Tree Magic: Ogham Lore and Druid Mysteries. Llewellyn Worldwide: Woodbury, Minnesota.

Sharlyn Hidalgo (2019) The Healing Poser of Trees. Llewellyn Publications: Woodbury, Minnesota.

lennie Kindred, (1997) The Tree Ogham. Glennie Kindred: UK.

Liz and Colin Murray (1988) The Celtic Tree Oracle. Connections Book Publishing: London, UK.

Jacqueline Memory Peterson (1996) Tree Wisdom: The definitive guidebook to the