Along the Edge

I put the word 'border' into an online thesaurus today and I came up with 83 possible synonyms and I have a few more in my head that didn't appear in the list.  The English language has many words hold the same meaning.  Edge, hedge, boundary, brink, fringe, outskirts, verge, perimeter...all talk about a place that is neither here nor there.  It is the place in between things or the in between place.

The in between places of the world have always held a fascination and fear for us that we, in all our logic of the modern world still carry with us...at least on some level.  Midnight is still called 'The Witching Hour' because for a moment in time it is neither one day or another, it is in between.  The old tradition that is still talked about if not observed of the husband carrying his bride over the threshold is because the door frame is neither in no out, it is an in between place that we need to be protected from. 

There are reasons we humans on some level know about the power of the borders.  It is because most life happens there.  Most animals living today are what are called "edge habitat species" meaning they live where more than one habitat comes together.  The edges of fields and woods, the edges of forest and swamp, the edge of ocean and land.  There is a reason why this is.  Because they have more of a guarantee of life if they do.  Look at the animals that are not edge habitat species, the spotted owl, the passenger pigeon, the Siberian tiger...all either gone from this world or barely clinging to survival.  By linking life to one single habitat animals become doomed if that habitat is destroyed or threatened.  Homo sapien...humans....are the ultimate edge species.  Which is one of the reasons we populate a good portion of the planet.  We still hear the song of the hedge, even if we no longer share the words.

It is not too surprising to know that many plants have that same wisdom.  They straddle the edge, living on the borders between different world.  To one side is the sunny field, to the other a shady cliff or a dark swamp.  A forest of trees may have few plants growing underneath them, but at their border the tangles may be so thick as to be almost impassable.  Many of the plants that we humans have taken with us throughout the world lived this way, part of the hedgerow.

Here in Wisconsin, many of the old farmers call these hedges 'rabbit patches' because of how the rabbits gather there for food and safety.  One of my rabbit patches runs along a ridge line that separates farm fields from forest.  I have stumbled across fox dens and fawns here as I have harvested the bounty that this border hold.  The three main trees that grow here are wild plums, which I harvest from in the summer time, hazelnuts, which I gather from in the early fall, and highbush cranberry, which I wait until the cold of winter to harvest from.

So, when Ol' Sol broke free from the clouds this morning I reached for my basket with visions of scarlet fruits running through my mind.  The snow has been piled high on the north side of the hedge, but if one is clever they can use the hedge's natural wind break to find where the snow was swirled away making walking so much easier.  With her maple shaped leaves gone for the year, Highbush's berries are a shock of red in the otherwise gray world of winter.  I can see then before I even make it to the hedge.  Yes, the deer and birds have been there before me, but for me, sharing this bounty is part of living with the wild ones.  Highbush is an equal opportunity hostess.  She feeds us all.

I weave through the thorny plum trees to get to the berries that are further in.  These berries are still bright, still covered with snow and just ripe for the picking.  Highbush cranberry berries grow in hanging clusters, making them easy to harvest by the handful.  My basket fills quickly.  I pop one into my mouth and make a pucker face.  Actually the raw berries are not good to eat many of, which is fine because raw highbush cranberries don't taste super great...at least from my perspective.  The deer and the birds don't seem to mind. 

The bitter flavor of HBC is actually a good thing.  She is healer as well as hostess, and that bitter flavor of the raw berries is her medicine to the world.  Though we can taste it in her fruit, HBC's medicine is much stronger in her bark, which is why she carries the folk name, crampbark.  The inner bark of crampbark has be harvested in springtime, when the sap is rising for generation.  The original people of this continent taught this medicine to the healers who came here from Europe and it has been used by all ever since. 

I, myself, make a decotion of crampbark tea for everything from menstrual cramps, to night cramps, to overworked muscle cramps to stomach cramps.  I have even used it on a neighbor who had hiccups for over 6 hours and she could find nothing that worked to rid herself of them.  Mixed with valerian root, it makes for a good night's rest when we push our body to the limits of a new exercise routine or when we forget ourselves and work in the garden too long.  Add a shaving or two of willow bark to the decoction and headaches from squinting in the sun too long can be alleviated.  While it doesn't cure diarrhea, it does help settle the muscles that can ache after having a bought of it.  A twitch that doesn't hurt but won't go away can be soothed with crampbark tea as well.

So highbush cranberry is a healer, and she shares her fruits well...but she has her deva moments.  Don't we all (and if we don't, we should).   Those fruits that I am working with in the winter actually ripened while her leaves were still on her branches.  For a brief time last fall she was this glorious mass of all different color reds and yellows with the oranges mixed in.  The tops of the leaves were often scarlet red, while the undersides of them were bright yellow.  The almost glowing red fruit hung in clusters in that riot of color.  So why didn't we harvest them then when our fingers wouldn't have gone numb with cold while we were doing it?

That goes back to HBC's deva nature.  She will only work with you when SHE is ready.  Start cooking her berries before that time and she'll let you know you made a mistake.  If highbush's berries haven't frozen a couple time and you pop them into a pan, they will make your whole house smell like you are boiling a skunk...and not a happy skunk either.  It is a mistake you are most likely not going to repeat anytime soon.  No, you have to wait for winter to really and truly settle in.  Then and only then is it safe for your olfactory sense to start working with highbush cranberries.

From there though she makes some of the easiest and most delicious wines and a tart jelly that carries that same red glow that the berries hold.  Wine is easy to make with HBC.  In fact if you just left a bucket of berries sitting some place warm they would make themselves into wine, and not a half bad one either.  They come with their own yeast, sugar, acid, and tannins, in almost perfect balance.  I have drank highbush's bucket wine many a time and it can be as good as anything that comes out of California or France, but without the high price tag.  To be a little bit more consistent though an easy and yet marvelous wine to make means adding a few steps and ingredients to the process.

For every 2 quarts of berries, boil 1 gallon of water with 2 pounds of sugar mixed into it.  Pour the boiling water over the berries in a food grade, non-aluminum container.  Mash the berries a bit.  You don't have to go crazy here, just press down on the berries to release more of the juices.  Let this sit until cooled to blood warm (around 100 degrees).  Sprinkle some yeast over the must, cover with a cloth and leave along until the vigorous bubble slows.  This can be anywhere from two days to a week.  Then rack (or strain) it into a jug of some sort, put a balloon over the jug's opening, and let it sit for another month or two, or until the balloon no longer has any gasses in it.  Rack (or strain) it into bottles and let it age for at least 4 months.  Chill and serve an amazing wine.  Really, this is that easy.  That bitter taste that is in the raw berries, add just the perfect touch of bite to the wine.  HBC is a great beginner's choice for a first wine, because the berries have a nice blend of what a good wine needs without all the fuss and muss.

The other gift from the berries is jelly.  Now some people love this jelly.  Others like it as a glaze on meats but not for breads.  Still others take a long time to warm up to it at all.  I was raised on its tart goodness so I basically have to love it.  Its in my genes.  

So for each 2 cups of berries you will need 3 cups of water.  Put in a pan and bring to a boil, mashing lightly.  Simmer for about five minutes.  Strain through a jelly bag or cloth.  A little squeeze here is okay but not too much.  HBC berries have their own pectin so a little squeeze will put that into the juice.  Too much of a squeeze will make the jelly a bit cloudy but it will still taste okay.  Add 2/3 of a cup of sugar to every cup of the juice and heat slowly back to a bubble.  Pour into sterilized glass jars and seal.  You have made highbush cranberry jelly.

Gifts from the hedge, from the in between places that so much life calls home.  We are part of that life, straddling so many different habitats, times, and lifestyles that we have become the expert edge species.  We have the ability to walk in between so many different world we sometimes forget how special that makes us.  But the little glowing red fruits of the highbush cranberry bushes are there to remind us, lest we forget.