Berries to Butternuts

Sumac bushes with red berry clusters. These look beautiful, but it turns out they weren't ripe yet.

I hoped to find a thicket of plum trees that afternoon. I'd found the trees in flower on a rainy-day hike in the spring, and I wanted to see whether they were now bearing fruit. Although my expedition wasn't successful in the way I'd hoped, it turned out to be successful in ways I would never have imagined.

Red, ripe raspberries. A treat!

Mystery nuts.

My good luck began with a ripe raspberry here and there along the trail. I also spied many green, unripe blackberries and filed the information away for later. I even found three blueberries (I don't think of collecting blueberries until closer to August). When I got to the knoll where I'd seen the putative plum trees, alas, I didn't find any fruit hanging from their branches. I did notice some green nuts scattered about the ground. I couldn't find the tree they'd come from, and I'm not entirely sure what kind of nut they were. My best guess at the moment is some kind of hickory nut (I didn't see any shagbark hickories, whose peeling bark is quite distinctive, and I don't think I'd be able to recognize any other kinds).

Unripe blackberries.

 I turned back down the trail after the plumless knoll and the mystery nuts, and after at time I came to a spot where a variety of berries were growing in the middle of the trail, so that the trail split like a momentarily divided highway. Somehow, I hadn't noticed the berries on my hike in. Some were unripe blackberries, some were ripe red raspberries, and the rest resembled blackberries except that they had a significant white bloom and were fuzzier, like raspberries.

These look moldy, but they aren't! This is the
handful of bloom-covered berries I brought home
for my kids. These have even been rinsed.

I had just seen the same type of berry on a different trail, where the white bloom made me think the first berry I'd seen was moldy. Then I'd noticed that all the black berries (although not the unripe red ones) had this bloom and that the stems were coated in white as well. So it probably wasn't mold. I next wondered whether someone had sprayed a pesticide here (which seemed unlikely, given that I was on conservation land), but when I picked a berry, I found that the inside (which of course would not have been exposed during any chemical spraying) was also coated in fuzzy whiteness. When I now found the same berries on a different trail, I concluded that the white bloom must be a natural feature of the berry. Because all the raspberry- and blackberry-like berries are edible, I tasted one. It was delicious -- significantly sweeter than a blackberry or raspberry. I collected a handful (I only had a small snack cup that hadn't made it back inside from my car) to share with my kids when I got home and decided to take the kids berry picking the next day.

I took my two youngest boys back
to pick black raspberries the next day.
We even found a few ripe blackberries!

Incidentally, I've now decided that these bloom-covered berries are most likely black raspberries. At first I thought they might be dewberries, but the stems were green, not red. When I read a description of the black raspberry plant, I learned that, although stems on older plants are red, those of newer plants are green with a white bloom. The book didn't mention a bloom on the berries, but I'm guessing black raspberries nonetheless. My source mentioned that many people think black raspberries are the tastiest of all the berries in the blackberry-raspberry family, and I am definitely throwing my vote in the same direction.

These nuts were hanging right into the trail.

After several minutes of berry picking, it caught my attention that some branches were practically hitting me in the face (no, I am not the world's most observant person, mainly because I can become completely absorbed in a single activity to the point that I can hear or see nothing outside of that activity). I then noticed some strange fruits hanging from the branches, which were bent significantly over the trail. Actually, the branch was so much of an obstacle that I must have had to duck to get by on my hike in; the top of the tree had been practically severed and was hanging upside down across the path. How I had managed to pass this spot on my way in without noticing the fruits was beyond me. In fact, I began to wonder whether I had somehow taken a wrong turn on the way back, but a short amount of backtracking confirmed that I'd come the right way (I saw a pair of striking orange mushrooms that I was sure I'd seen before). I went back to examine the tree and fruits, which I now decided were nuts (I took one home and cracked it open, and although it clearly wasn't ripe yet, I was able to confirm this identification).

Nuts in hand.

Most plant-identification guides show pictures of flowers and ripe fruit, not unripe fruit, and I didn't recognize this small nut. But, as I looked at the leaves, I saw that they resembled walnut leaves except that the terminal leaflet was well developed. The leaves were a little straggly looking, probably because most of the trunk was severed (it was amazing that the tree was producing fruit at all), but I glanced up at the branches stemming from the intact portion of the trunk and still thought the leaves looked similar to walnut leaves. I looked at the bark, which had interesting, textured grooves. A possibility began to dawn on me. Could this be butternut? I hardly dared to hope as I looked back at the nuts. They were the shape of small footballs. Very small footballs, but footballs nonetheless. They had four lightly discernible ridges running lengthwise. I imagined the nuts getting bigger, darkening a bit ... and looking pretty much exactly like a butternut.

Bark of the nut tree.

I was beginning to believe that I might really have found this nut, which has been evading me for a year now. The first time I found a walnut tree (at our town playground), I thought it was a butternut, even after I'd tasted it. I had not managed to get the nut out of its shell intact, so its walnut shape was lost. Additionally, walnuts apparently need to age to develop their flavor, so a newly picked or fallen nut tastes considerably different -- and worse -- than an older nut. I could not reconcile the taste of this supposed butternut with Samuel Thayer's description in The Forager's Harvest (see my list of recommended reading). He writes: "Butternuts that have had the hulls peeled while green are a delicacy. Their sweet flavor hints at bananas and vanilla ice cream, and they are very soft."

The nut tree had been practically severed
at the top.

When I finally figured out that I'd found a walnut tree rather than a butternut tree, I was sorely disappointed. Afterall, I can buy walnuts in the store, and I'm not even a big walnut fan (as a side note, I have now tried properly aged wild walnuts, and they do taste significantly better than the cultivated kind available for purchase). I have been searching for the butternut tree ever since. So to think that I might finally have found one (nevermind that it had to practically hit me in the face before I noticed it) -- well, I was so excited that I began talking to myself. (Should I admit this? I talk to myself. My mother does it too; I used to think she was crazy, but now that such a belief would require me to admit that I'm crazy, too, I've dropped the charge).

Walnuts high up in the tree.

I pocketed a nut and headed back to my car. On my way home, I stopped by the playground to see how the walnut trees were doing. The nuts were considerably larger than the possible butternuts were. That gave me pause. The two trees are relatives; do their nuts develop at the same time and pace? The playground trees have ample sunlight, whereas the maybe-butternut tree was in the shady woods. Could that make a difference? Well, I'll keep an eye on my tree and let you know how it turns out. I'm still cautiously excited. (Post-publication note: it wasn't a butternut tree; see my next post.)

Sumac flowers.

After hitting the playground, I stopped by my favorite parking lot to check on the sumac and milkweed. The sumac is still in flower and hasn't made berries yet. Most of the sumac I've seen is still in flower, but last week I did find some bushes with bright red berries. The color looked perfect, but when I sucked on a berry (you can't eat them -- they're too hard to chew), it didn't have any flavor. I'm not sure why -- I guess it was just wishful thinking -- but I collected eight berry heads anyway and tried to make some sumac-ade with them. We made many pitchers of this refreshing, tart

Sumac berries.

drink last summer. Unsurprisingly, the flavor wasn't good; my husband described it as kind of like treebark-flavored water. Next time I'll be sure to put more stock in the taste test (I'm not sure why I conducted a taste test if I wasn't going to take its results into account).

Milkweed plant with small, immature pods
(look in the center of the photograph).

Although it will be a while yet before I'm collecting sumac from that parking lot, several of the milkweed plants had small, immature pods, at the perfect stage for collecting. I'd never tried a milkweed pod before, but I have enjoyed milkweed shoots and flower-bud clusters, and so I was looking forward to trying the pods. Interestingly, although there are a lot of milkweed plants around this parking lot, only those plants in one particular place had pods yet. I collected enough for everyone to have a small serving at dinner. Then I picked a bagful of day lilies and headed home to try a recipe for salmon-stuffed day lilies. The flowers, stuffing, and boiled milkweed pods (which tasted like the other milkweed parts except for the soft pre-silk inside, which was creamy and vaguely cheesy) were enjoyed by everyone except my oldest son, who didn't like much of anything that day and whose opinions should therefore be discounted.

Black locust leaves?

A few other recent adventures are worth sharing. Back in May I found some trees with deeply furrowed bark -- so unusually furrowed that I wanted to know what kind of trees they were (see my May 23 post). I passed the same trees on my way to the black raspberries, and now that the leaves are out, I'm thinking these might be black locusts. Black locust trees are considered invasive in Massachusetts, so it should be easy to find one -- except that it hasn't been. I've been looking for them because their flowers are supposed to be beautiful, delightfully scented, and delicious (one book recommends black-locust fritters). Although black locusts might ordinarily blossom in early July, all the rain and warm weather has accelerated things this year, so I'm guessing the flowers have come and gone. I'll keep an eye on these trees next year to see whether my identification is correct.

Unripe serviceberries?

Another tentative identification this week was what I'm hoping turns out to be a serviceberry bush (also known as shadbush or juneberry). The fruits reportedly have a delicious pear-like flavor. They resemble blueberries or miniature apples and, like those two fruits, have a crown on the bottom. The ripe berries range from reddish purple to blue, purple, and black. I saw the berries and took a picture, then made this tentative identification at home, so I'll have to go back to the bush with my plant guides to be sure.

Unripe riverside grapes.

One final discovery I'll mention from the past week are riverside grapes. A friend used to have trees covered in grape vines, and she always lamented how the animals seemed to take all the grapes before the people could get any. So I'm only tentatively excited to see the developing grapes, but I do hope some will still be around for picking in the fall. I've noticed a number of grape vines in various places during my explorations.

So, no plum trees, but plenty of other exciting discoveries this week!

Photo Gallery

Here are some more pictures from the week.

I think this is false Solomon's seal, but I didn't dig up the root to find out. The roots are edible, but they don't sound very tasty. The best thing Samuel Thayer has to say about them is that "Solomon's seal rhizomes would at least be a good source of calories for someone lost in the woods." The shoots, on the other hand, reportedly make a good vegetable. The berries, which turn bright red when they ripen in the fall, are sweet like molasses but have a strong acrid aftertaste. Thayer says the berries are edible, but I should note that another author, Teresa Marrone in Wild Berries & Fruits, says they are inedible. I tend to thoroughly trust Thayer, however. The level of detail and personal verification of facts in his books is convincing.

Milkweed pods boiling for dinner.

The underside of riverside grape leaves is considerably lighter than the top. The young leaves (when shiny and a bit reddish) make a good wrap for rice stuffing, and a friend of mine recently sauteed the leaves to reportedly delicious effect.

The terminal leaflet in this walnut leaf is missing; a butternut leaf would have a well-developed terminal leaflet.

Close-up picture of two walnuts from one of the many walnut trees surrounding our local playground.

Indian cucumber with unripe, green berries. There are two berries, so this plant is two years old. The berries are inedible, but they turn blue when they are ripe. (The root is edible and tasty; see my February 21 and May 31 posts for more about Indian cucumbers.)

The deeply furrowed bark of what I hope is a black locust tree.

Slowing Down

The water's on for tea!

If I put my water in my electric teakettle and it didn't boil for 45 minutes, during which time I had to first properly wire my electrical outlet, then constantly fiddle with the teakettle to make sure the plug was inserted just right and the electricity was still flowing, I'd be really annoyed. More than really annoyed. And I'd hardly ever drink tea (or, more likely, I'd just get a new teakettle). But the cup of tea I get after waiting only 5 minutes for the water in my perfectly functioning teakettle to boil can't compare to the tea produced by 45 minutes of building and tending a fussy fire in the middle of the woods. In the woods, things take longer, but we have the time to wait.

The shelter where we pitched our tent. Three of us slept
in hammocks; see pictures below.

This weekend was our first family backpacking trip of 2012. Because Memorial Day weekend is such a big camping weekend and because camping at non-designated areas seems not to be permitted in Massachusetts (the land of too many rules), we headed to the White Mountains of New Hampshire, where we were sure to find a tent site even if the ones marked on the map were occupied. We usually plan a two-night trip and stay at the same site for both nights -- breaking down camp with three small boys around takes several hours, so moving between campsites just isn't practical at this stage in our lives. This time we tried something a little different, though, in that our campsite was also just about at the end of the trail, so we had no day hike planned for day 2. The only thing on the agenda was relaxing and playing around our campsite.

My 6-year-old was fascinated with watching
sticks float over the waterfall.

My 2-year-old builds a "house"
with rocks.

The plan worked out perfectly. Our campsite was at the bottom of a small waterfall that splashed into a rock pool deep enough for swimming in. On a hot August day, it would have been a treat to jump in after a long, sweaty hike up the mountain, but at the end of May the icy mountain water was cold enough to stop my breathing for a second after I dunked in (and right back out!). I was the only one to brave the low water temperature, but everyone else (including my husband) had fun building with the brook stones and playing near the water.

The only trouble with the site was its location pretty much right on the trail. It might not have been a popular camping spot (probably because it wasn't on the way to anywhere else), but it certainly was a popular hiking spot. There was a steady stream of foot traffic from about 9:00 in the morning until late afternoon as hikers headed past our campsite to admire the larger waterfall at the end of the trail.

My 2-year-old at the bottom of the
two-tiered large waterfall, which was steeper
than it looks in this picture.

On the positive side, we got to meet lots of interesting people, including a man who owned a llama farm in western Massachusetts. He and his wife climbed part-way up the waterfall with me and my two older boys on Sunday afternoon. The man was a little more gun-ho about finding a way to the top than his wife, whose muted skepticism was apparent as her husband repeatedly attempted to find ways to scale wet and slippery rock faces. We made it much farther than I thought we would, but eventually I deemed the way ahead too dangerous for a 4-year-old and a 6-year-old. (I didn't mention that my ability to suppress the paralyzing panic that swells in my chest when I get up high was rapidly failing. It would be hard to keep my kids safe and calm if I was clinging in wild fear to a root on the side of a rock).

One of our hammocks in a bug net.

Many of the people who came through our camp stopped to remark on our hammocks, and in fact I think Eno, which makes the hammock I favor, owes me a commission on any resulting sales. The hammocks have bug nets and rain tarps available and are less intimidating (at least for me) and almost certainly faster to set up and take down than tents (my husband and I plan to have a race on our next camping trip; I'll take down the hammocks while he takes down the tent). The hammocks are also lightweight (although so are many tents, including ours) and more compact than a tent. Plus, the main reason for using one is that it's so much more comfortable than sleeping on the ground, even with a cushy self-inflating sleeping pad! And you don't need to find a flat spot to set it up (although you do need appropriately sized trees or large rocks). I've been sleeping in one on camping trips ever since a terribly uncomfortable night on a sleeping pad when I was 7-months pregnant with my youngest son. My oldest boys also sleep in hammocks, and my husband and 2-year-old share the tent, although the 2-year-old can't wait for us to tell him he's big enough to use a hammock (right now we're worried he'd fall out). There might soon come a day when we're a tentless camping family.

My 2-year-old and I cross a bridge
on our way out of camp. He's wearing
his new backpack, and I have gear stuffed
in his usual seat in my pack.

The two-year-old might not be big enough to sleep in a hammock quite yet, but he did his own hiking for the first time on this trip! I carried him up the mountain because we got to the trail around his nap time, but he hiked the entire 2.5 miles down, and he carried his own (not very full) pack almost the whole way! Although he'd been asking to go hiking all the time we were packing up camp, he did get a little upset to see camping gear stuffed in the seat he usually occupies in my backpack. But soon he was hiking along with his own little pack and walking stick, and he only had a meltdown once -- when we were so close to the end of the trail that I could actually see the dirt road it started from!

My oldest and youngest boys taking a water break.
The oldest was excited to try out his new, bigger
backpack on this trip. My 2-year-old is now using his
brother's old blue pack. He carried his clothes plus a
few camping cups and an emergency plastic rain tarp.

Wild strawberry plants in flower.

The trail itself was an easy ascent and descent, and most of the way it hugged the side of the brook carrying water away from the falls. We began to see interesting plants before we'd even left our car. At the edge of the parking area were wild strawberry plants in flower, and we saw many more strawberry patches on our walk along the road on the way to the trailhead. Then, much to my excitement, I spotted my first wild bunchberry plants! I ordered four bunchberry plants for my garden this spring, but I have yet to see or taste a bunchberry. I'm not sure why I'm so excited; bunchberries are reportedly bland and not worth writing home (or perhaps blogging) about. Nonetheless, they're a good food to know in case you're ever lost and hungry in the woods (they won't give you a stomach ache like eating too many blueberries or blackberries, apparently), or in case you're merely curious about trying new foods. I was excited to be able to quickly and easily recognize these plants in their native habitat without having one of my guide books along (the bunchberry plants in my garden look a bit different from their wild cousins, and they don't have flowers yet).

Bunchberries in flower on the side of the dirt road on the way to our trail.

Bunchberries are perennial herbs growing 3 to 7 inches high. A whorl of four to six leaves is at the top of a thin stem, and the tiny yellowish green or pinkish flowers are surrounded by four white, pointed bracts that look like petals (but aren't). When the bright red-orange berries ripen from July to early September, they will be borne in a cluster where the flowers are now. The inside of the berries is whitish, and there is a single stone, which is apparently inseparable from the fruit. Therefore, one must eat the seeds as well. How annoying this is I cannot say, but I don't mind eating raspberry or blackberry seeds. I'm not sure how much bigger bunchberry seeds might be.

White lettuce (prenanthes) leaf shapes vary
quite a bit, but most of those I saw looked like this.

Another new plant I identified on our trip was prenanthes, or white lettuce. Because I hadn't lugged any of my heavy foraging guides with me, I couldn't verify the identity of what I'd found on the trail. The hours I'd spent poring over the books previously had certainly paid off, though, and I was fairly certain I'd found the right thing. Still, as a precaution, I didn't attempt to eat any. Instead, I just took lots of pictures.

White lettuce spends the majority of its life as a single stem bearing a single leaf. After perhaps 6 years in this unassuming state, it starts a new life as three- to five-leafed plant that quickly and dramatically sends up a tall, flowering stalk bearing a number of white or pinkish-purple flowers. I didn't see any flowers (it's too early), but I did see some plants sending up the multi-leaved stalk, which tells me they'll be flowering this year.

White lettuce sending up
a soon-to-be flowering stalk.

The edible portion of white lettuce is the young leaf, which is supposedly superior to many other wild greens, including sow thistle, dandelion, and most other wild lettuces. Older leaves are reportedly bitter, but it sounds like the younger leaves are much milder and that boiling removes most of the bitterness. Given my dislike of bitter flavors, I don't have high expectations for this plant, but nonetheless, I'll try some the next time I come across it. That shouldn't be too long from now, if its prevalence on this past weekend's trail is any indication.

Indian cucumbers have two sets of leaves;
5 to 7 on the bottom tier
and 3 to 5 (usually 3) on the top.

Two Indian cucumber roots.

The trail was also dotted with Indian cucumbers, which some readers might remember as the plant that started my foraging obsession (see my first post). I have always dug up Indian cucumbers after the plants have produced their blue berries; one advantage to this is that you can tell how old the plant is by how many berries it has (at least, that's what I remember learning on my school trip in the fifth grade). The older the plant, the larger the root should be. Another advantage, which I have just discovered, might be that the roots are tastier and less mealy after the plant has produced berries. I don't know for sure, but I tried several Indian cucumbers on this trip, and none met my expectations in terms of taste or texture. They were also all considerably smaller than usual, perhaps because the plants were using all the energy from the root to send up their flowering stalks. Indian cucumbers are  not ever larger than my pinky, but those I found on this trip were half that size.

Not an Indian cucumber!

You also might recall from my first post that I have often dug up plants I thought were Indian cucumbers but then have been unable to find any edible root. I made the same mistake on this trip, so I spent a little time comparing the plants that had fooled me to the true Indian cucumbers. I have never noticed an Indian cucumber in flower, but presumably the flowers look different between the two plants. The leaf venation is also distinct; Indian cucumbers have several veins running lengthwise, whereas the other plants have one central vein with secondary veins branching off of that. The plants that are not Indian

Here I'm holding the plant that kept confusing
me. Behind this are some real Indian cucumbers.

cucumbers also seem to have more leaves (eight or nine) than the bottom tier of Indian cucumbers (five to seven) (but this isn't always true; the imposter I am holding in the photo at right has seven leaves; two are hidden). And of course, they do not have the telltale two tiers of leaves; if you see those, you know you have an Indian cucumber. It's only before the Indian cucumber sends up the second tier of leaves that the two plants could be confused.

I did find a few other familiar edible plants, including wood sorrel and blackberry bushes, but the most interesting plants were the ones I couldn't identify. They probably aren't edible, of course, but I found myself wanting to be able to name them just because I kept seeing them everywhere. At first I thought one might be wild leek (or ramp), for which I've been eagerly and fruitlessly searching all spring. Alas, when I dug up the root, it didn't smell like onions and looked nothing like I expect a wild leek would look. Later, I found some flowering plants, and the flowers were the wrong color and shape entirely. Check out the end of this post for pictures of this and other ubiquitous plants I failed to identify (drop me a line if you know what they are!).

In short, it was a perfect weekend, filled with interesting plants, splashing in and climbing up waterfalls, and relaxing. Something about laying in a hammock, far from cell-phone reception and computers, and looking up at a canopy of birch trees simply refreshes the soul. And being outside somehow makes children -- at least, my children -- behave better and fight less. "Mommy, we're sharing!" isn't something I think I've heard around the house!

My oldest son shares the parts of his trail mix he doesn't like
with his brothers.

I thought these might be wild leeks, but they weren't.
Now that I'm able to compare them to a photo
in a guide book, I guess they don't look quite right.

The root didn't look right at all.

Then I saw some flowering plants, and the flowers definitely were not those of wild leek.

At first I thought these plants might be false Solomon's seal, but they aren't. The roots didn't look right, and then I found this branching stalk. I don't think false Solomon's seal branches.

These plants were everywhere. I don't know what they are. This one has a dried-up flower.

Another view of the same plant.

We found more than just plants! We make so much noise that we don't tend to see a lot of wildlife, but we did manage to sneak up on this inchworm, which my 6-year-old is displaying on his wrist.

Three tired hikers at the end of our trip.