I stood in my backyard in mid-June, staring at a white sheet I’d spread under my mulberry tree — stained a deep, irreversible purple — and I just wanted to cry. I had timed everything wrong, wasted two full weekends, ruined a good bedsheet, and still barely managed a decent harvest. If you’re just getting … Read more
I stood under my mulberry tree in late June, watching what should have been pounds of ripe berries fall uselessly to the ground — because I’d been away for a work trip and completely missed the window. I had no mulberry harvest season calendar, no plan, and no idea that the whole thing could be … Read more
There I was, standing on my back deck in my favorite white linen shirt, arms raised triumphantly over my mulberry tree, when the branch I was tugging snapped back and pelted me with approximately forty perfectly ripe berries. I looked like a crime scene. My shirt, my hands, my deck, my dignity — all casualties … Read more
I once stood under my mulberry tree in July, bucket in hand, completely convinced I was harvesting a bumper crop of perfectly ripe white mulberries. They were pale, almost translucent, hanging in clusters — I was thrilled. I brought in nearly two pounds, popped one in my mouth, and immediately made a face that my … Read more
I stood in my kitchen staring at a colander overflowing with fresh mulberries — and then I looked at the counter, and the table, and the two bowls I’d already filled that morning. It was peak harvest week, and my tree had absolutely lost its mind. I was thrilled, right up until I realized I … Read more
I stood at my kitchen counter last July staring at an entire colander of mulberries — deep, wine-dark, perfectly ripe mulberries I had spent two hours picking in the summer heat — and watched them turn to mush right in front of me. Not the next day. That same afternoon. I had no idea how … Read more
I want to tell you about the morning I spread a brand-new white bedsheet under my mulberry tree, stepped back to admire my cleverness, and then watched my dog sprint directly through the center of it, sending two pounds of freshly fallen berries into the air like a purple fireworks display. She came inside looking … Read more
Last summer, I climbed a wobbly extension ladder propped against my 20-foot mulberry tree, grabbed a branch way above my head, and promptly watched the whole ladder slide sideways along the trunk. I grabbed the branch. The ladder hit the grass. I hung there like the world’s least graceful ornament, covered in mulberry juice, heart … Read more
I walked back into my kitchen looking like I’d lost a fistfight with a giant squid. Both hands were stained the deep, accusatory purple of a cartoon villain. My white t-shirt — my favorite white t-shirt — had a splatter pattern that could generously be described as “modern art.” My face apparently had some mulberry … Read more
There I was, standing in my backyard in a white linen shirt — a white linen shirt, of all things — absolutely convinced my mulberry tree had finally hit its peak. I popped a berry into my mouth with the confidence of a seasoned homesteader. Reader, it was like biting into a tiny sour grape … Read more
