With some effort, our backyard could feed us. The effort would be ours, of course. The land produces food in abundance and even excess, if we only knew where to look. Look past the prickly pear, crabapples, pomegranates, grapes and pears my husband planted; ignore the big field of soybeans, corn or wheat, and still there is plenty. Blackberries, obviously, bare their blossoms for all to see, ringing the cultivated ground. Above them are persimmons for the birds in fall, acorns feeding the squirrels, and black walnuts for the racoons’ patient paws. Deep in the woods where the pawpaws grow, I’ve seen the flat rock still strewn with bits of shell, and even the paw-sized rock tool the racoons use. All across the lawn, in alternating sun and shade, are edible herbs such as henbit, violets and purple deadnettle. One fallow field is full of passion flowers; the fruit may not be the delicious variety, but still, it’s edible. There are raspberries where the thistle grows, and just past them, where the wetland begins, are cattails, edible from root to tip. I forgot to mention the dandelions, ramps and garlic mustard, chickweed and pineapple weed, and so much more awaiting discovery and the turn of the seasons. All that abundance, and still, we drive to the grocery store.
birds chatter; fellow shoppers
on my morning walk
Inspired by GoDogGoCafe Haibun Wednesday.