Mulberries

Hello,

 

Leroy and I rode our bikes, packed with some small containers, over to the mulberry trees along the bike trial. We had not been there long when a woman stopped as she rode along to tell us that this tree had the nicest berries, but too high up. The next tree was good, but not so many berries and the last tree had the sweetest berries.
She apparently picks the berries to give to the local groundhog.

 

Leroy and I are picking for breakfast or the freezer. A bit later a bike riding couple stopped to get berries from the next tree from us. They just ate all they picked. We talked about what we do with the berries. I learned that they eat as little processed food as possible by only buying things of one ingredient which means nothing mixed together by someone or something else. We thought we were almost kindred spirits. “I wish I had met you long ago!” the woman exclaimed, “All my family and friends think it is so weird.”

 

I did not tell her that I have been eating much differently than most people since the 1970’s. I have come more and more onto this path. It is not an easy thing to buck the trend. But I am satisfied that I did.

 

I suspect my kids were always a little taken aback by how our eating style compared to their friend’s. Visiting with a group of Sarah’s HS friends, I learned that the friends used to have some talk about what different kind of thing they would eat at our house. We were the mystery place. Little did they know that I “cleaned or mainstreamed” it for visitors.

 

Paula