The best way to enjoy them is grazing directly from the tree. The two trees in my field, by the road, are laden with goodies this year.
They are sweeter than the strawberries this year, more prolific and definitely were less work. No weeding, no watering, no neighbor dogs coming in the open garden gate (Beau was in the house) and munching away while my back was turned. When I picked strawberries later, I wondered how many had been licked.
The only problem with mulberries is they leave my fingernails looking like I've been working as a truck mechanic. Black nails are worth it, a memento of a brief season's foraging. They do grow out.
Meanwhile, Down at the River
After a dry spring, some dark clouds opened as if they had zippers on the bottoms, pouring rather a lot of water on one locale. The house gutters couldn't contain it when three inches fell over a short period.
Lissa and I were glad we were not on the Grand River, which now is living up to its name. It would be okay to float down it now, if we could borrow some sort of amphibious landing craft from the Army.
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