This is a recording of rain falling on through the fir trees in the maritime Northwest. The understory of the fir-forest is largely occupied by unfruitful brambles in late October.
October Rain On Brambles
Brambled And So Tart
Every summer in Washington, the muscly brambles offer up a mild apology to the ecosystem in exchange for their continued domination. This is the function of blackberries, I presume.
These reparative blackberries are stout, sometimes approaching the size of a small chicken egg. They arrive in great fleets, feel lightly sticky on our fingers, and have a thrilling range of hypothetical tartness at their disposal. But during the rest of the year, the brambles upon which they grow offer us no compensation as they expand the borders of their kingdom.
They cannot be reasoned with.
Their decree is absolute.
Oh, that our thorned lords might look to the tome of mycology,
Sniff out the footnotes of the Mushroom Kingdom.
Soft, wet, edgeless and accommodating.
Incapable of spilling blood.
Look to the mushroom!