Arts Alive San Antonio

It seems that a lot of people are turning to gardening to stay in touch with nature and to do something enjoyable and productive while they are “sheltering in place.”

A talented pianist I interviewed recently decided to plant three new trees in his yard, for instance – a lemon tree, a lime, and I forget what the third one was. I was impressed. A friend grew the most gorgeous rose anyone has ever seen, calling it “A rose named Love.”  Another friend couldn’t wait for the oak pollen to subside so she could weed her garden and start planting. And a neighbor spent a recent Sunday on her knees working the soil in her front yard and sticking things in it. Today, my husband and I drove by the neighborhood garden store and its parking lots – yes, lots, plural -were packed with vehicles of eager gardeners.

It’s spring, and planting is the thing to do. It’s also coronavirus season, and plants and sunshine are such a nice change from our grim reality.

I was kind of surprised to find out that citrus trees can be grown here quite successfully – you just have to know what you are doing. The soil has to be deep and have good drainage, the trees have to be separated by at least 12 feet, the pH of the soil should be 6-8, etc. Not higher mathematics but you have to educate yourself on how to grow lemons, limes and tangerines.

Other good fruit plants to plant in our yards are peaches, plums, persimmons, strawberries and blackberries. I have always loved blackberries, especially when I could pick them myself off the bush when they are ripe and ready, and difficult to reach through the dense, spiky branches.

As a child, I spent a number of summers in France, staying with relatives in a small town in the Champagne region, near Epernay, one of the two sparkling-wine capitals of the area. Besides producing the famed champagne brands, such as Moët et Chandon and Mercier, this verdant land was – and still is – known for beautiful woods, as well as the best butter and cheeses in France. And there were blackberries all over the place, at the edge of fields, along roads, in far reaches of backyards, growing wild, available, and delicious.

At first, I just picked them to eat on the spot but you can only eat so many that way. Eventually, with container in hand, I would strategically map my route to pass by the masses of blackberry shrubs, stopping at certain places to collect as many juicy berries as I could. Intent on my task, I became pretty adept at avoiding the sweet fruit’s thorny defenses, but sometimes there was no choice: either get the best berries and end up with scratched and bleeding arms or collect the still green, sour ones that were easy to reach. Those yummy beauties high on the bush had the opportunity to soak up more sunshine than the low hanging fruit.  

So, one day, after a particularly challenging battle with the thorns, I found myself with my big container full of ripe, plump blackberries. I couldn’t wait to show them to my great-aunt who liked to bake large fresh fruit tarts. When I got back to the house, all proud of myself, she took a look at my hard-won berries, shrugged and said, “What am I going to do with those?”

Even from this distance of years and decades, the only excuse I can come up with to explain her insensitive behavior is that she never had children of her own. She was a doctor by training but, thank God, not a pediatrician.

And that’s not my sole sob story about blackberries. Fast forward to San Antonio, circa 15 years ago. A woman I knew gave me a couple of tiny blackberry plants – actually more like developed seedlings – to plant in my garden, saying they grew like gangbusters in her yard on the South Side. And she volunteered to put them in the ground herself, on the side of my house where they would get a lot of sunlight. I was overjoyed, visualizing the towering, fecund giant bushes from my time in France. I watched them grow and my husband watered them whenever he watered the rest of our backyard. The day came when the first berries appeared. I almost could not believe my eyes. For some reason, I had never thought of planting them before; wasn’t even aware that they could grow in our semi-tropical climate. But there they were!

And then… One day I went out to visit the blackberry patch and maybe pick a few new berries… and… they had all vanished, gone, ripped out of the ground!

 What?

My hubby calmly explained that the “mess” was unsightly and the plants weren’t exactly prospering, so he decided to eradicate them.

Needless to say, it was not the happiest day of our marriage.

I had somewhat better luck with tomatoes and peppers but eventually gave up on backyard agriculture.

Now, inspired by so many people around me (socially distant, of course), I am seriously considering buying a tangerine and a lemon tree. And maybe blackberry seedlings, which I’ll be ready to defend from assault this time around.

– Jasmina