Black Caps!

The Backyard Naturalist Strikes Again:

Black Caps!

       Ah, black caps: the thorny weed with sweet and sour black gems of pitty fruit. The outdoor baby sitter. The source of pennies from Mom. The dye for making pretend blood for play-acting.

        It’s black cap season again, and by my calculation, it’s a week or two early. Usually they are at peak just before my birthday. This time, they’re at peak for Dad’s.

       To me, picking black caps has been a favorite part of summer for as long as I can remember. The pleasure of the prizes is almost always worth the pain of acquiring them.

        Black caps are protected by an astringent white powder on the stems and thorns. The thorns vary from large enough to draw blood to nearly microscopic enough to drive one to itchy exasperation. When pricked by the thorns, the powder seems to create an extra irritant to one’s skin. Additionally, it is rare to find a stand of black caps that are mosquito-free.

       Through the years, this backyard naturalist has noticed something about the black caps. Perhaps you have, too. Daddy longlegs seem to frequent the black caps. One hot summer day, I watched a daddy longlegs on one of the juicy black berries.

       “What are you doing?” I may have whispered.

       Then I saw it. The daddy longlegs had its fangs in the fruit. It was drinking the juices out of it, its tiny fangs poking into the fruit and then slipping them into its mouth and then back into the fruit again. I delightedly reported it to Mom and Dad, who gave me more than just parental interest. Dad made his “I’m impressed!” face. He raises his eyebrows slightly, draws his chin and lower lip upward and sometimes tips his head. That expression is one of those things I live for, as my father is a brilliant man. Impressing him makes my whole year. I’m definitely, as they say, my mother’s daughter and my father’s daughter.

       Today, at the end of a walk with my sweetie, I was struck by the immensity of this year’s black cap harvest all around the edge of our development. No one had touched them, although they’ve been ripening en masse for several days. The plants seemed to be begging to be relieved of their load of juicy black fruit.

       I went inside and changed to a long sleeved shirt (even though it’s 80+º out there). In about 20 minutes, I had picked a quart.

       When it comes to harvesting “weeds,” I remind myself to not be greedy. My biblical precedent is found in Leviticus.

         Leviticus 19: 9 And when ye reap the harvest of your land, thou shalt not wholly reap the corners of thy field, neither shalt thou gather the gleanings of thy harvest. 10 And thou shalt not glean thy vineyard, neither shalt thou gather every grape of thy vineyard; thou shalt leave them for the poor and stranger: I am the LORD your God.

Leviticus 23:22 And when ye reap the harvest of your land, thou shalt not make clean riddance of the corners of thy field when thou reapest, neither shalt thou gather any gleaning of thy harvest: thou shalt leave them unto the poor, and to the stranger: I am the LORD your God.

       And, in Deuteronomy:

       Deuteronomy 24: 19 When thou cuttest down thine harvest in thy field, and hast forgot a sheaf in the field, thou shalt not go again to fetch it: it shall be for the stranger, for the fatherless, and for the widow: that the LORD thy God may bless thee in all the work of thine hands. 20 When thou beatest thine olive tree, thou shalt not go over the boughs again: it shall be for the stranger, for the fatherless, and for the widow. 21 When thou gatherest the grapes of thy vineyard, thou shalt not glean it afterward: it shall be for the stranger, for the fatherless, and for the widow.

 22 And thou shalt remember that thou wast a bondman in the land of Egypt: therefore I command thee to do this thing.

       Even with my quart of berries, there’s at least another quart out there ready for the picking. After that, maybe another wave of ones that are still pink. 

       I’ve picked enough manna for one day.