Pulling from a Branch
In India people brag about mango season or papaya season. But here, right here in North America and at this time of year, we can relish and take pride in such bountiful fruit bearing trees such as mulberries and a smaller bush, the saskatoon. I never realized until today how many you can find in the city.
Few people take advantage. After all, most of these juicy edibles are on someone's property, however, I interpret the overhanging branches that canopy the sidewalk as a gesture of kindness - charity for a monk perhaps. I don't hesitate to pluck a few berries at the expense of staining the palms. Yes, indeed, I will make a full stop from walking in order to energize myself. Of course, I'll make sure the proprietor is not sitting on the front porch, watching. Does anyone do that anymore?
I figure that here, God is giving, and I can't pass up the generous offer. There's another rationale that I put behind the picking. In my teens I spent my summer in orchards. It was an 8 hour a day ordeal of being on a ladder going after cherries, plums, peaches, pears and apples. My siblings and I were reaching new heights with our summer jobs. Those were great days. The transistor radio was set in the trunk of the tree where limbs branch out and we would tantalize our ears with Stevie Wonder singing "My Cherie Amour."
We would also benefit from the nutrients the fruits had to offer. So it was the reaching, the climbing, the stretching, the sunshine and the eating that was all just so good for us. To the cave-dwelling texting generation, I don't envy you one bit. You don't know what you're missing.
But there was one more important component to my cherry picking days that's very clear to me - somehow I had the firm belief in the presence of someone always watching me with great care.
Ahhh! That reminiscence is precious.