Driving back to work with a friend in the car I made an impulsive stop. It was one of those fancy neighborhood parks in Boise with a sign saying “for subdivision residents only”. But this spot had a grip-shit of blackberries that needed picked. A nice side hill location with irrigation water to keep the berries juicy in arid Idaho. I could easily reach berries without messing up my pants, the sure-fire sign that no one picks this patch.
We picked a pint in about 10 minutes and then left back to work. Back in the car my friend exclaimed “Man, that was wild!”
I smiled wide at the statement, on the inside I cringed a little. When did picking berries become a “wild” experience? Make me ponder just how far our food system has taken us.
It is my job to teach others that what is now wild was not always wild. Berry patches used to be guarded secrets among friends and family. Now they sit, unpicked, surrounded by well-to-dos and their children. Until some crazy Chef in the Suburb comes rolling in…
I will do my best to change this, one co-worker, one child, one subdivision at a time.