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reetings from Australia.
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Oh weans! Oh weans! The morn's the Fair … a cup of tee (a China drink) of which I never drank before. Strength is born in the deep silence of long-suffering hearts; not amid joy. The boy stood on the burning deck There's nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and open a vein. Oxford ... revealed to me my life's mission and ... was the dearer to me because she had taught me to love my country better. |
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It's like turning a prism around to the light. You keep turning it around and you see a new colour.
American actor Christopher Reeve (born on September 25, 1952) on his efforts to rehabilitate himself after he broke his neck;
'11 am', ATN 7, Sydney, Australia, November
28, 1995
Either you decide to stay in the shallow end of the pool or you go out in the ocean.
Christopher Reeve
Anyway, Granny is our leader. She leads us grandkids down the path behind her house where the blackberry patches are and gives us Fischer's buckets to put them in. Granny takes us down to the patches every summer to pick blackberries for her jam and I love it. I love to pick blackberries, but I eat more than I pick.
Jessica Beth Howard; from 'Blackberrying'
It is summer in the High plains and the flowers bloom as if aware that this warm weather will soon be gone. Gold everlasting daisies soak up the sun and scattered clusters of white everlastings look like patches of leftover snow. Seven years ago bushfires raged and the local Country Fire Authority volunteers were stretched to the limit. They saved the valley but there is still stark evidence of bushfire damage in the Woolly Butt Alpine ash forest.
We stop by a stream to pick plump blackberries and my idlic memories are put to the test. I'd forgotten about the irritating whine of mosquitoes stopped only by the slap of skin on skin, that spiky blackberry canes scratch arms and legs and snag clothes and the blue/black juice stains your hands. I still manage to fill several billies. Alan is wise. He picks wild cherry plums and apples. Later as we sit on a sunwarm rock cooling our feet in the creek I look down and see a huge hairy spider. At least I remember to grab my billy of berries before my hasty retreat.
Glenice Whitting; 'Blackberries, Bogong Moths and Cherry Plums'
Source
Blackberry picking time has come around;
In woods and hedgerows their briars abound!
These days bring visions of carefree childhood;
Sunny meadows, sun-dappled wood.
Granny urged us to ready in haste.
There was no time to dally and waste,
To run to the patch and have picking done
Before we're overcome by heat and sun.
We flew barefoot through shimmering fields
To gather in what sweet-faced nature yields
Scaring meadow birds to startled flight
Before us, with joyful cries of delight.
We splashed the creek, laughing and hell-bent;
Our spray threw rainbows in the sun's glint.
Dancing dragonflies led the way
To the edge of our world that sunny day!
Each of us carried our own tin pails
Tied to our waists dangling rope-like tails,
Freeing both tiny hands for thorny work.
The whole family picked and no one shirked.
We carried berries home, purple-fingered;
On purple tongues their sweet taste lingered.
Berries filled our kitchen; a scrumptious smell;
The best in the world that we could tell.
Blackberry jam, our purple treasure-trove,
Bubbled atop Granny's wood-burning stove.
Glass jars and lids lined up on the table,
Along with dippers and skimming ladle.
Granny was always so happy then!
She'd filled the shelves with conserves again.
Childhood memories of late summer's play;
Romping in sunshine each carefree day.
'Blackberry Memories'; © Annie Johnson & Stuart Buchanan, August 16, 2005
September
25
is
the 268th
day of the year in the Gregorian
Calendar (269th
in leap years), with 97
days remaining.
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Holy Rood Eve, OS (Old Style calendar)
Last blackberry-picking day, Britain
Today is the last day to pick and eat blackberries because the
Devil poisons them (by urinating and/or spitting on them) on September 26, Old
Holy Rood Day (rood = cross), especially in Scotland. However, in most parts of England the
equivalent day was Michaelmas
(now September 29).
Because some say that Satan keeps the old-style calendar (OS), in England
blackberries are safe to eat until old Michaelmas Eve (October 10).
Blackberry Jam
Fresh blackberries-pick over, wash, drain, crush,
and measure berries and juice
Sugar-2/3 to 3/4 cup per cup of berries
Heat the berries and juice thoroughly and add the
sugar and stir over heat until it is dissolved. Cook the mixture rapidly,
while stirring, until it thickens (when it reaches a temperature of about
9 degrees above the boiling point of water).
Pour the jam into hot sterilized pint jars to about 1/4 inch from the top.
Seal and process in a boiling water bath for 10 - 15 minutes.
Blackberry wine
"Blackberry jelly has been used with good effects in cases of dropsy caused by feeble, ineffective circulation, and the London Pharmacopoeia (1696) declared the ripe berries of the bramble to be a great cordial, and to contain a notable restorative spirit. Blackberry wine is made by crushing the fruit and adding one quart of boiling water to each gallon of the fruit, allowing to stand for 24 hours, stirring occasionally, and then straining off the liquid. 2 lb. of white sugar are then added to every gallon, and it is kept in a tightly corked cask till the following October. This makes a trustworthy cordial astringent, used in looseness of the bowels. Another delicious cordial is made from pressing out the juice from the ripe Blackberries, adding 2 lb. of sugar to each quart and 1/2 oz. of nutmegs and cloves. Boil all together for a short time, allow to get cold and then add a little brandy.
"In Crusoe's Treasury of Easy Medicines (1771) a decoction of Blackberry leaves is recommended as a fomentation for longstanding ulcers. There is also a popular country notion that the young shoots, eaten as a salad, will fasten loose teeth. A noted hair-dye has been made by boiling the leaves in strong lye, which imparts to the hair a permanent soft black colour.
"Blackberry vinegar is a wholesome drink that is easily made and can with advantage have its place in the store cupboard for use in winter, being a fine cordial for a feverish cold.
"Gather the berries on a fine day, stalk them, put into an earthenware vessel and cover with malt vinegar. Let them stand three days to draw out the juice. Strain through a sieve, drain thoroughly, leaving them to drip through all day. Measure the juice and allow a pound of sugar to each pint. Put into a preserving pan, boil gently for 5 minutes, removing scum as it rises, set aside to cool, and when cold, bottle and cork well.
"A teaspoonful of this, mixed with water will often quench thirst when other beverages fail and makes a delicious drink in fever."
Some blackberry lore
Blackberry : Healing, Money, Protection Source: Internet
Book of Shadows
Riddle
As white as flour and it is not flour,
As green as grass and it is not grass,
As red as blood and it is not blood,
As black as ink and it is not ink.
Answer: Blackberry, from bud to fruit.
Whooping cough remedy
Thrust the child having the whooping cough three times through a blackberry bush, without speaking or saying anything. The bush, however, must be grown fast at the two ends, and the child must be thrust through three times in the same manner, that is to say, from the same side it was thrust through in the first place.
Source:
John George Hoffman, a Pennsylvania Dutch healer, 1820s; Pow-Wows
Be a berry on the highlands,
Cranberry upon the heather,
Strawberry upon the mountains,
Blackberry along the fences?
Even there will trouble find thee,
There misfortune overtake thee,
For the berry-maids would pluck thee,
Silver-tinselled girls would get thee.
Kalevala, Rune XXVIII, 'The Mother's Counsel'
'Blackberrying'
By Sylvia Plath
Nobody in the lane, and nothing, nothing but blackberries,
Blackberries on either side, though on the right mainly,
A blackberry alley, going down in hooks, and a sea
Somewhere at the end of it, heaving. Blackberries
Big as the ball of my thumb, and dumb as eyes
Ebon in the hedges, fat
With blue-red juices. These they squander on my fingers.
I had not asked for such a blood sisterhood; they must love me.
They accommodate themselves to my milkbottle, flattening their sides.
Overhead go the choughs in black, cacophonous flocks –
Bits of burnt paper wheeling in a blown sky.
Theirs is the only voice, protesting, protesting.
I do not think the sea will appear at all.
The high, green meadows are glowing, as if lit from within.
I come to one bush of berries so ripe it is a bush of flies,
Hanging their bluegreen bellies and their wing panes in a Chinese screen.
The honey-feast of the berries has stunned them; they believe in heaven.
One more hook, and the berries and bushes end.
The only thing to come now is the sea.
From between two hills a sudden wind funnels at me,
Slapping its phantom laundry in my face.
These hills are too green and sweet to have tasted salt.
I follow the sheep path between them. A last hook brings me
To the hills' northern face, and the face is orange rock
That looks out on nothing, nothing but a great space
Of white and pewter lights, and a din like silversmiths
Beating and beating at an intractable metal.
Almost without noticing it they had
passed through the edge of the wood, and were playing into a rough
field which was cumbered with big, grey rocks. It was the very last
field in sight, and behind it the rough, heather-packed mountain
sloped distantly away to the skyline. There was a raggedy blackberry
hedge all round the field, and there were long, tough,
haggard-looking plants growing in clumps here and there. Near a
corner of this field there was a broad, low tree, and as they played
they came near and nearer to it. The Leprecaun gave a back very
close to the tree. Seumas ran and jumped and slid down a hole at the
side of the tree. Then Brigid ran and jumped and slid down the same
hole.
James Stephens, The Crock of
Gold, Book 1: 'The Coming
of Pan'
The next champion sent against him by Maev was
Loch son of Mofebis. To meet this hero it is said that Cuchulain had to
stain his chin with blackberry juice so as to simulate a beard, lest Loch
should disdain to do combat with a boy.
Thomas Rolleston, Myths and Legends of the Celtic
Race: Chapter V: Tales of the Ultonian Cycle
"The whole plant had once a considerable
popular reputation both as a medicine and as a charm for various
disorders. The flowers and fruit were from very ancient times used to
remedy venomous bites; the young shoots, eaten as a salad, were thought -
though Gerard cautiously suggests the addition of a little alum - to
fasten loose teeth. Gerard and other herbalists regard the bramble as a
valuable astringent, whether eaten or applied: its leaves 'heal the eies
that hang out,' and are a most useful application for piles, its fruit
stops looseness of the bowels and is good for stone, and for soreness in
mouth and throat."
Source
My Isle of Wight friend Stuart Buchanan's excellent blog Rosemary Lane has some blackberry articles on this page. And he writes elsewhere:
"The brambles in the hedgerows lining my country lane are presenting the last of a bumper crop of blackberries that has been remarkable for its abundance and sweet lusciousness of the fruit. I picked the first blackberry in the last week of June, (five weeks earlier than last year), and have been cropping every week since. My garden shed now harbours 16 gallons of blackberry wine that I have made during the summer and racked after fermenting out to dryness. I shall leave it to mature and bottle it next summer when I begin next year's blackberry winemaking.
"All indications are that this will prove to be a striking 'vintage'; full-bodied, smooth but strong in flavour and rich in colour. I look forward to exhibiting a bottle at the Isle of Wight Agricultural Show next summer."
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