The mulberries behind our condo are perfect. After more than a week of indulging in the berries every time we take Jack-Jack out for his walk, we've watched them get bigger and blacker every day. lil' b makes a mad dash for the big tree straight away, hanging out under the shade of the low hanging branches and popping them into his mouth without even pausing to chew. I find myself sort of dreading the end of the season, which should be any day now. Since the cherry tree back there only produces flowers, this is the only time he can get out and pluck fruit first thing in the morning. Although we did discover an errant raspberry vine, which was pretty exciting in its own way.
Mulberries are one of the little ways life comes full circle for me. I don't eat them anymore, but when I was lil' b's age, I would run out to the big old mulberry in the backyard. My dad kept the lower branches trimmed so he could mow the lawn around them, so I couldn't always reach them unless they were heavy with fruit and I jumped high enough. But Dad would often join me out there, picking them and giving them to me in handfuls.
Now that the berries in our tree are plentiful, I go out with lil' b and marmallow, b with his Tupperware bowl. And we pick until we're bored with it or can't reach anymore.