Poison Ivy

I went hunting blackberries yesterday before work in the hills beyond my house. Through the misty rain, the sun had cast a mauve glimmer on gray shale and the birds' loud chatter drowned out any stray noises from civilization.




It was a much needed diversion into serenity. My hamster wheel had been spinning furiously and stepping off reminded me of the bigger picture. Attitudes at work drive me mad but it's only a brief interlude. It will only be at most 10 more months until I'm back to school (fingers crossed!).

So I walked in the woods with dew soaking my sneakers and breathed in the absence of people. Coming up over a knoll, the sun beamed through the trees and from across the meadow. There, I saw the bush. Enormous, succulent and inky berries glinted in the light.

I made my way forward and noticed the wide jade green leaves that surrounded the fruit. Poison Ivy. I stopped a moment and thought about the symbolism, the correlation with my work dissatisfaction and my ultimate goals. I couldn't help but laugh aloud, startling a small flock of goldfinches into flight.

I continued to the bush, thankful in many ways, that I don't react to urushiol and I picked the berries.


And I made a blackberry, ginger compote for my salmon.