4 or 5 years ago, I toured the garden of a local man. He went by the name Mr. Jim, and he also built a produce stand in his front yard to sell his bounty. He talked and talked and talked to us as we sat on his tractor and drank root beer together. He said a lot of things, most of those things I didn’t understand. I’m not sure why, but it was very hard to understand him. At the end of our visit, he asked if I wanted a plant of his. Right before he offered this plant, we were talking about roses…or at least I thought we were talking about roses. So, I took this plant and planted it in my front yard right next to another rose bush.
Years and years and years went by and this plant kept growing and growing and growing, but it looked nothing like a rose bush. At one point, I chopped it down to the ground because I was very annoyed by it. This year, I decided to just let it grow because it was stubborn and despite me being annoyed, it just wouldn’t go away. A few weeks ago, berries appeared on the plant and I realized that Mr. Jim gave us one of his blackberry bushes. Today, we picked a few, two to be exact. And they were delicious.
That is the story of my accidental blackberry bush, right by our front door, and right next to a rose bush.
When I’m Mr. Jim’s age, I can only dream about drinking root beer on my tracker while talking gardening with some interested souls.