A glistening catches my eyes—a plump jeweled blackberry glowing in the shade of a cottonwood tree.

I pull the prickly vine up to my mouth and suck the sweet berry directly onto my tongue, leaving the stained pith behind. Then greedy, I search for more—Nature’s version of an Easter egg hunt.

It kindles hardwired memories of foraging, of knowing exactly when and where each vine, each root, each bush would share its bounty. Of a faith in the earth so secure it has no name, no otherness from me. I close my eyes and recall wild huckleberry, its tiny treasures a fit reward for my patient harvesting. I remember precious wild strawberries trailing magically across sand dunes in June and gathering green sea rocket right from the beach. It was a time of abundance, living in harmony with each inching of the wheel of the year.

Scratch and sniff other plant allies here.