Happy Mulberry Moon

(Mostly a Photo Essay)

The full moon for April in southern Georgia will be named Mulberry. I hope you got a glimpse of it on Thursday evening. It looked like a glowing round cheese made of Jersey milk.

Although the weather was continuously wonky, this spring we escaped a late freeze at Red Earth Farm, and the fruit is coming on. In the case of mulberries, the fruit has arrived.

A roving band of cedar waxwings promptly moved in. I heard them before I saw them one afternoon last week when I headed out for a walk. Their call was so high-pitched and piercing that it actually made my eardrums ache, which may mean hyperacusis for me. (I just learned that word.) Hear the whistle for yourself.

Salvaging any of the fruit has been a battle, but I managed to pick a pan full.

Radical Sustainability: Wait as Long as Possible to Mow

Underneath the mulberry tree the ground cover is a carpet of tiny flowers that include clovers, toadflax, and sheep sorrel. The pollinators are in heaven. I’m seeing my neighbors in town already beginning to mow—early mowing is one more nail in the coffin of our pollinators, which is one more nail in our own coffins, since much of our food supply requires pollinators.

Please wait as long as possible to mow. I know people mow because they want only one variety of grass, not wildflowers and weeds and other grasses, but I think the best, most beautiful, most unique, and most nourishing lawns are those thick with many species of plants.

If you care for a small piece of land, and if you need encouragement and inspiration to create your own oasis, read Nature’s Best Hope: A New Approach to Conservation that Starts in Your Yard.

If you want to register your gardens as part of the Homegrown National Park movement, you can do that here.

Our yard looks like this:

Every spring we wait as long as possible to mow, and we mow as infrequently as possible. Often we turn the horses out into the orchard, which is also our yard, to graze. Last week, however, I noticed the horses purposely walking through the blueberry bushes, using the boughs to scratch their bellies, and I also saw them scratching their backs on low-hanging limbs of fruit trees. They didn’t realize that they were knocking off young fruit. For now the horses are banned from the yard.

Here I am trying to get an immersion photo of the ground cover.

Photo by Raven Waters.

And here’s the view from down in the grasses. An entire world carries out its business down there, doesn’t it?

The mulberries became a pie, and oh, how I wish I could invite you over for a slice of it and a cup of tea.

Basic Pie Crust

Remember The Grit, the long-time vegetarian restaurant in Athens, Georgia? Oh, my. In 2003 they compiled a cookbook with the late Hill Street Press, and in that book is a great recipe for a pie crust. You should be aware that the recipe in the cookbook has a mistake in it, so don’t use it. The problem is the amount of liquid. When the authors were reducing the ingredients to fit a personal kitchen, not a restaurant kitchen, they must have forgotten to reduce the water, because the recipe calls for far too much.

1 cup all-purpose flour

pinch of salt

pinch of freshly ground cinnamon (optional) (But isn’t that a nice touch?)

1/3 cup, plus 2 tsp shortening, chilled (Vegetable shortening works great. Real shortening as well. Butter too.)

About 1/3 cup ice water

1 tablespoon cider vinegar (I’m not sure if that is the correct amount. I wing it, and I’ve not messed up a crust yet.)

Here is where my recipe varies. I double or triple this recipe, and when I do, I add a small egg. I beat the egg in a measuring cup, add some cider vinegar, add some ice cubes, and then add water.

Please don’t make me write out all the directions. You do know how to make a pie crust, don’t you? If you don’t, just say the word and I’ll come back in here and update this newsletter.

My Classes

The Magical Craft of Creative Nonfiction course started last week and is going swimmingly. There is so much energy in these fireball writers that my computer sometimes feels that it’s going to burst into flames. You think I’m exaggerating but I’m not.

I have another powerful group of writers in the Kittredge Essay Schema, which began last week as well. This is the most geographically diverse group yet, and they are zooming in from Santa Rosa, California; Flat Rock, North Carolina; Kingwood, West Virginia; Savannah, Georgia; Brunswick, Georgia; Falls Church, Virginia; Hiram, Maine; Surfside Beach, South Carolina; Delores, Colorado; Asheville, North Carolina; Great Falls, Montana; Fennville, Michigan; and Roswell, New Mexico. Some amazing pieces are going to come out of this.

What I really want to say is that I have begun a newsletter for writers. If you wish to subscribe, you can find it at rhizosphere.substack.com. Not much is there yet. It is completely free.

Next Week

Please know how much I thank you for reading my newsletter. If you have decided to pay for a subscription, you have done so to support me as a friend and a writer, and that means a lot to me. Thank you.

I’ve been wanting to update you on the restoration of Cedar Grove Church. I found a great carpenter, Mr. Javier Ramos, and he has done some fine work finishing the inside. I’ve taken photos, and I want you to see them. I also want to tell you about the amazing wildlife that I’ve been seeing, and I want to keep encouraging you toward a more and more sustainable and meaningful life. Plus, coming soon, another chapter in the weird saga of the white dog. Also, my granddaughter’s quinceanera is coming up in a few weeks, and I’ll be taking a lot of photos to show you how 15-year-olds party in Miami.

I sincerely wish you a Happy Spring, a Happy Easter weekend, and a Happy Mulberry Moon.