A Berry Too Far…
A Berry Too Far…
Some people brake for garage sales. I brake for blackberries. Last week, on my way home from a walk, I spotted wild Himalayas hanging near the edge of the sidewalk. Reminding myself to tread carefully due to my recent bout with dizziness, I leaned over gingerly. Unfortunately, as my arm reached for the berries, the rest of me followed into the stickers…
Dismayed, I tried extraditing myself from the tangle of thorns. Carefully curling my free hand around the thickest stock, I yanked desperately. Still stuck, I realized the slope, rather than slight, angled at a sharp 45°. Soon to celebrate my eighty-first birthday, this was my first plunge into purgatory, a doctrine I did not agree with.
Thankfully, my fanny pack hugged my cellphone at my waist. But calling my husband presented another problem. I imagined my conversation:
“Hello, Greg. Ah, um, a funny thing happened on my way home. Could you meet me just south of P Street on 49th? Look for me and my white hat in the ditch…”
While I debated the necessity of alarming Greg, I heard footsteps. A kind voice followed, “My, my! Let me help you!” I looked up at the stranger who was already extending her hand. Grabbing hold of my flabby bisep, she quickly brought me to my feet. With one more tug I was back on the sidewalk.
My angel, after introducing herself, said she’d escort me home. I accepted June’s offer, apologizing for rerouting her walk. She reassured me that I need not be embarrassed—as though finding people stuck in berry bushes was a common occurrence.
Later, resting in my recliner, I ruminated and remembered a few lines from Robert Browning’s poem:
Ah, but a man’s reach should exceed his grasp,
Or what’s a heaven for?
I continued searching for any redeemable wisdom I could extract from my morning’s over-reaching. Several thoughts surfaced as I spun my mind’s rolodex:
Some adventures–like hiking, swimming, and blackberry picking require the safety of two. The National Park Service agrees: “Hike in groups. Bears like to have options.”
Leave the blackberry patches and corners of the field free for the birds and starving college students to glean.
Free (like freedom) isn’t free, but comes at a cost. Better to buy your berries than to break your bones.
Frisk impulsive proposals; examine them carefully before you leap. Guard against them overtaking your ability to reason.
Talk over your plans with a wise friend who loves you enough to tell you the truth.
Make peace with your decreased strength by celebrating! Your senior season has brought increased wisdom and experience. If your growing instability requires a cane or walking sticks, embrace these aids without embarrassment. Remember, no one defies death in the long run.
Accept your current season. At your age you are bound to have more money and less than nine lives. Why not give younger folks opportunities to earn money? Let them climb ladders, clean gutters, wash windows, dig ditches, and (unless the blackberries are thornless and on level ground) pick your blackberries!
Thanks for the humble chuckle this AM!! So glad your neighbor was there to lend a hand. And I admire your handsome hiking sticks.. I hope to foray once more to Elementary Schoolyard to gather dust free berries to freeze in flat pie pan shapes. I’ve promised pies for Nate’s.B Irthday party and the annual ‘old U District neighbors’ picnic. I will not make homemade berry jelly this year. Too Time intensive.
Last week, I unwantedly discovered a different kind of briar. As I reached down to remove trash from the recently mowed roadside, this thing latched to my forearm. It's briar barbs were like tiny hooks. I was a bit stunned by the situation, wondering how to remove myself from this unique experience. With my gloved free hand, I removed the stem having dozens of tiny hooks attached to my arm. Removal was a bit painful as I watched tiny streams of blood flowing down my forearm. I took a moment to study that horrible creation and embed it's appearance into my brain. Sometimes, I wonder why God created some things.