14 August 2005

Bramble On

Twice today, I attacked the task of picking enough blackberries for a double batch of brandy and a couple jars of jam.

First time out, the sun sat in the sky in a shady way, a breeze cooled my exertions as I stretched for ripe clumps of dark purple orbs.

Brambles mean multiplicity; you have to see them from all angles before you can say you've picked all the plumpies; you have to feel the trickle of that dark juice like blood; you have to see the Christ figure dying on the cross (curs├ęd Western heritage).

Brambles mean multiplicity; pinching between thorns, tugging along snagging vines, picking plumpies and eating a few, ripping scruffy shirt worn specifically for a suicide mission.

Blood, blood everywhere! "Not really," says the water as it washes away in falls of deepest indigo. "That pain's just the many different-sized stickers gracing your hands."

Second time out, the sun was out to chase all shade away, but a breeze still whacked thorns into me. I renovated my approach: gallon ice-cream tub tied to my side bag and Baylin's hiking stick with a coat hanger wrapped around one end, hook poised for action.

Brambles mean nothing; you need a technique like hooking tendrils and pulling them forward; you need a chair to reach the high plumpies and resistance against the pricks; you need a ladder or ironing board to bore forward through the velcro snakes that would swallow you alive.


Brambles mean everything; you find life there; you find nourishment there; you find sweetness there; you find intoxication there; you find pain there; you find reward there; you find Heaven there, in the brambles that mean everything to one needing a quart more for brandy and another for jam.

6 comments:

theresa said...

What drive and perseverence!

Excellent post. I love the line, "the sun was out to chase all shade away,"

Anonymous said...

You've single handedly turned a quest of my own offspring into a desciptive lyrical I as an adult can now ponder upon as I wipe away frustrations and dark stained fingers. Thank You. (lol) Hey tho, is lyrical a word? and if so what does it mean? I can't help but wonder if I've used it as a noun or an adjective. My muse? My muse.. I beg your guidence.

Kyle Stich said...

Yes, what drive indeed. My hands are numb with residual pin prick marks-- lol.

As for "lyrical" as a noun, anonymous, it's traditionally an adjective. But, there's nothing to say you can't put it to use as a noun. After all, actual usage of words creates accepted meaning.

Robert Casserly said...

I have a good recipie for blackberry cream pie--served cold, good summertime stuff. If'n you brought me 1.5 cups of blackberries, I'll a make you one.

Kyle Stich said...

I'd love the recipe for blackberry cream pie, Robert. I wouldn't dream of asking you to prepare it with that ankle of yours.

J. Breedlove said...

This is good inspiration since I'm going blackberry picking later this morning (what am I still doing up?). I'm really looking forward to the jam and blackberry cobbler. Any chance I could get that brandy recipe?