June 19, 2009

The forest begins to bear fruit.

Salmonberries hang at picking height along the damp trails. I take a handful, surprised this year at their flavor. Their color too often belies a watery suggestion of sweetness, but today I am delighted by a tart burst of juice when I crush one against the roof of my mouth. I tease the flesh from the seeds with my tongue as I walk, savoring the first wild fruit of the season. Underfoot there are more seeds, clotted red in bird droppings. The robins eat many more than I do.

Photo: Salmonberry (Rubus spectabilis)






Later there will be Thimbleberries, the wild raspberry of the forest. I will fight the robins for them when they ripen.

Photo: Green Thimbleberries (Rubus parviflorus)

Osoberry. Indian Plum. Bird Cherry. The first deciduous January green. Flowers unfurling in February, pale against winter grey. I am greedy for their fragrance. Cat piss and skunk, the promise of light.

Now they ripen, yellow-pink and orange and violet orbs dangling from bright red stems. I will wait, knowing their taste, knowing their texture. Wait until each berry turns a deep purple. This is the taste of the forest: a gamy and almost unbearable bitterness, redolent of salmon, of bees, of sweet decay.

Photo: Osoberry (Oemlaria cerasiformis)

All photos copyright 2009, C. M. Alexander