Mulberry trees can have mind of their own (10/22/07)

Why is it that mulberry trees or shrubs or whatever they are insist on growing in my yard? I cut them down and before I can drag their amputated branches to the compost bin they are cheerily waving a new crop of shoots and leaves at me.

If I let them they would turn my entire property into a mulberry forest. It is hard for me to believe they are in the same classification of plants as roses. Roses absolutely despise my property. If I dare bring a rose home it will wither and die but not before sending out vicious thorny branches from the rootstock.

Mulberries are not useless trees. The berries are delicious in jelly and straight off the tree. However, the birds and deer like them as much as I do and as we all know, what goes in must come out. To say the droppings make a mess is an understatement if I ever heard one.

If I were into silk-making I could use my mulberry trees as food for silkworms. I read that they prefer the white mulberry and mine are purple so that might not work. Besides, I wouldn't know a silkworm if I saw one. The berries can be used to make a natural dye. Anyone with a driveway can attest that they dye concrete quite easily. They can also be used as food coloring. Supposedly the anthocyanins in the berries can produce various shades of red, blue and orange. The colors must come from different varieties of the tree as the only color mine produce is purple. I have read that mulberries can be used in various folk remedies for conditions ranging from asthma to vertigo. It can be used to alleviate insomnia and melancholy. I'm guessing they make the berries into wine for this last remedy. I find it interesting that when sources say some plant or other can be used to cure dropsy or something they never tell me which part of the plant to use or exactly how to prepare it.

I did not plant the mulberries in my yard. The birds did that. The birds are also responsible for planting other things in the yard but it is only the mulberries I object to.

When I worked at the local wastewater treatment plant one of the treatment tanks had cables attached to suction tubes that removed settled sludge from the bottom of the tank. One year a flock of cedar waxwing birds appeared. They rode the cables like it was some kind of amusement ride. They had gorged themselves on mulberries before descending on us. The walkways and railings were a mess for weeks until the birds departed.

The trees may be useful to others but I still consider them to be weed trees. I keep cutting them down and they keep growing back. If I tried that with a plant I actually wanted the thing would die in a heartbeat. I have known people that are like mulberry trees. Life keeps knocking them down and they not only get back up, they do so cheerfully. Others are like roses, the least little snub and they reach out and try to scratch someone.

I have also known people that many would consider the equivalent of weed trees. They pop up where they don't belong and refuse to leave. They are different than those around them and just don't fit in. They say and do things that most of us would consider to be out of line then go on about their merry lives with no concern for the mess they leave behind. They also occupy a proper place in humanity. True, we can't make wine or jelly out of them but their stories are entertaining. They are often artists of some sort and many tend to take up writing as a profession.

Great, I have just compared myself to a mulberry tree. This is not where I was going with this at all. The point was going to be something about misfits and resilience. It was supposed to be about getting knocked down and popping back up cheerfully. It was supposed to be about something entirely different but what can you expect from someone who inadvertently compares herself to a mulberry tree?[[In-content Ad]]