Almost anything was possible on Mulberry Lane. Magic was possible, we made children vanish with a towel and saw chocolates disappear from under moving cups. Imagination was Our bread and we dined at a table of wood and memories. We discussed the heady ideologies of religion, philosophy and science, dinosaurs, unicorns and raspberry lava jam.
The Mulberry tree grew wide and tall with Our attention and care. Crows, sparrows ,robins and Cardinals picked and ate ripened berries from the very tops of the branches where we could not reach. A few insects crawled up and down the length of the trunk, coming and going almost unnoticed. Spiders wove webs from between the fences to catch flies that zoomed back and forth scenting the fallen over ripe little fruits. Alive with the comings and goings of insects, birds, humans. Milk moths and Swallowtails took turns flittering in the shade of it. Each species being discussed in detail. I am sure some tiny. quick .scurrying rodents as well would pop by after dark.
In Winter the branches tricked music softly. In storms they bristled in the cold like rasping bones.
In Spring it rose before the other trees as if its strength could steal the sun. As if it were striving to be seen. We would watch waiting, becoming hungry for those first berries. We reached daily to pick them with excitement testing the ripeness before spreading a big blue tarp underneath to harvest the falling fruit.
In the Autumn its crisp falling leaves rustled and blew into small piles around Our pumpkins and ghosts. We made teas from dried Chamomile and Mint. And bathed in warm waters saturated with dried sage. Basil hung in tied bundles from the rafters. The kale, beans. potato's and tomatoes filled Our soup pots and We feasted like fattened Kings upon the savory elixir's We created from seed.
But in Summer We harvested the berries by hand standing on adventurous ladders Our heads in the dappled sunlight playing through the branches as We wove Our hands through bright leaves seeking the lush blue and purpling fruits. We washed those special berries and played in the sprinkler to cool Ourselves from the labor and celebrate the warmth of the day.
We drank Mulberry Lemonade and Mulberry Shakes. We baked Mulberry Muffins and Scones. Simmered pots with sugar to reduce the berries into a compote which was spooned onto warm biscuits covered in melted butter We had churned Ourselves. And then devoured them with clotted cream as if We were the first people ever to taste anything.
The Mulberry Tree grew as We did ,despite our efforts to stay right then. And the Seasons with their circumstance allowed the tree to intertwine into Our lives as if Our own growth were measured in the hidden rings of its spreading trunk. We were warm in Our own embrace.
I saw You And You saw Me Under the spreading Chestnut Tree.
This table has been stained with Walnut Espresso to represent Ian & Alia working at Starbucks
The inlaid sections have been stained with a home made Mulberry stain to represent Our summers together.
Ponderosa Pine is an extremally soft wood.
Each destressed line in this table is a craft that was done.
And a story that was told
Every dent is a meal where a plate or glass was dropped.
And a story that was told.
Every large indentation is a toy you slammed onto the table.
And a story that was told
Every meal you've eaten and every story that has been told has been laid into the very grain.
So I left them all there as a record without words. Of a childhood spent running through a sprinkler picking Mulberries and dreaming dreams that You shared with Us.
