THE HYBRID BERRIES HUMID AND MAYBE EVEN HALLOW (OR, ACORN AND OTHER)

Today we went out on an adventure. Well, a mini one at least. Since it’s quite hot, we only ventured a little ways. But still, we found some mysterious things and passages, enough that something can be related here.  Waiting for the rain that has not come is like waiting for a long lost lover (if you have a major affinity w/the rain). I remember what she was like, - the curve of her as she came down from above, - the smell, in the morning, or the night, or anytime- and her general atmosphere. If she arrived in the middle of the night, what a time we had, - watching one another, feeling our way around. But it was definitely the pause before she actually came, a moment full of promise and quiet unspoken secrets about what she might be like. or what's more, what her the real soul of her was.  And afterwards too, - the lingering story that she would leave after a loquacious set of hours. Ya, - she has been gone too long. In any event, - such things as she have become like a dream. We are left with the dry grasses, the wilted flowers; - the hot and humid days that have chosen to string themselves along together like beads in a necklace far too long. 

 

Water. Water in all kinds of containers and also a delivery system, - well…a Tupperware bowl or two. And trees, - kind trees that gave lots of shade. We went slowly, - as much or maybe more for a car ride than anything else, - and also to get out overall. Two dogs and a person. Then,- we saw that others were around near the beginning also- so we weren’t so far off, as long as we took it easy, short, stayed hydrated, and relaxed. There were the regular charms of the ridge atop the valley- the oaks, the pines, the berries (which I shall get back to in a minute), a nice frog by the side (sitting in the moment of sunlight, in a large sort of spotlight that made it through the tree tops to the darkened forest floor. 

This time I saw more acorns than usual,- ones all brown, and others that were half green

still- on the ground, happy enough,- waiting to be drawn by a drawer or painted by a painter or written about- ...something. Near one small path I saw one sitting in a bit of sand, and the sun shone on the whole affair. I thought to take a picture, but was a bit drowsy I guess from all the days of immense heat. I just walked over it and continued. There were some wild vines and of course sand, gravel, rock, brambly and feral places, a bit of wildflowers (lilies and buttercups), and moss growing on fallen birch tree trunks.

Then we saw some berries that are indeed hybrids. Black berries and red raspberries on the same tree, or raspberries that are black,- plus- for the first time- I saw that there were berries, and not a few,- that were half and half- in the same berry. They looks pretty, beyond pretty, - and the humidity had made them perhaps to grow quicker, fuller, riper. The entire robust scene felt sacrosanct, and we stood around there for a while and took a few photographs. Slowly, when the spirit subsided somewhat, - we began to venture out. If one feels closely, just as with the rain, - the spirit or heart of the happening has a beginning, middle, and an ending.

They are not always so pronounced, but they are there for the initiated to know. 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------