Blueberry

The Blueberry bushes in front of the cabin are not mature enough to produce lots of berries. The ones they do produce ripen slowly, a few at a time. It occurred to me this morning that, although they don't ripen all at the same time, it is possible to understand why they ripen when they do. The fact that there are one or two berries on each bush every time I go out to look is not random. It probably has something to do with things like the amount it rains, how much sun they get, and where they are on the bush.

I don't know exactly, but I realized this morning that I could know. All I would have to do is take the time to hang out with the berry bushes and watch what happens and when. Keeping in mind that what the bushes did this year is slightly different from what they did last year and what they will do next year, the process of really understanding how the berries ripen would require a commitment of time. The gifts would be substantial, however. I

realize that this would be a reclamation of knowledge. I know my ancestors had this knowledge. It was handed down to them from their Elders and they passed it along. I believe that there are probably people still living who possess this knowledge, but I am no longer in the line through which it is passed.

This gets me thinking about the knowledge my culture invites me to carry and pass on. Knowledge about money and career, possessions and status. I'm not sure how this will serve me when no one remembers how the berries grow.