Native Harvests 10/10/2021

By: Jennifer Richardson Holt

I live in a place steeped in history. No, it’s no England with its thousands of years of society and whatnot but, for America, there is a lot here.  I live in a town with a name from the native peoples that were here. The towns surrounding my town all have the same.  You all should know by now I love history and old stories from places. There are times where I can’t help but wonder what it would have been like to live right where I am now so long ago. Something about this being the harvest time of year has me contemplating what life would have been like around this area hundreds of years ago.  Gathering sustenance from the land I guess is what has my mind traveling this road.  Feel free to tag along.

I think it started with gathering muscadines. I am assuming most of my readers know what a muscadine is, though it is painfully apparent that this computer does not as it continuously underlines the fruit’s name as a misspelling. No Microsoft Word, I did not in fact mean mescaline, I did not mean anything even close.  This is a wholesome blog and we do not encourage the use of hallucinogens here.  Back to the topic at hand, if anyone doesn’t know, muscadines are simply a wild grape that thrives in my area.  And when I say thrive I cannot emphasize that enough, at least not for the area surrounding my home.  I knew in seasons past we had a rather prolific crop but I was not prepared for their abundance this year. Right in my own front yard there was at least one tree laid on the ground by the weight of the fruit heavy vines wrapped around it.  I am not exaggerating.  When we decided we would harvest some of the fruit so readily available we went to this one extravagant area with the downed tree and I kid you not, in the span of half an hour had a five gallon bucket full.  It was in the gathering that my mind wandered. Shocking, I know. 

First, I couldn’t help but notice how downright beautiful the muscadine is.  These were definitely larger and rounder than your average grocery store grape. I think what drew my attention the most though is definitely the color. They are something akin to the shade of a very dark garnet; a rich red-black.  I don’t exactly know how a fruit pulls off having its skin look metallic but I promise it does.  Somehow there is a quality to these wild grapes that gives their skin an iridescence. My favorite detail though was the little golden flecks all over it.  It was as if I had an orb of deep outer space in my hand; a little ball of dark sky and stars.  I mentioned the comparison to my daughter. I must have been waxing excessively poetic because she seemed rather uninspired by my description. Perhaps it was a bit dramatic for a five year old now that I consider it.

Now that I have rambled probably more than I should about wild grapes I go back what I had originally intended to write about. It was gathering nature’s bounty that I thought about other peoples from long ago that would have done the same. From the direct option of vine to mouth, to making all manner of dishes and products there was a plethora of options for the fruit of these ever present vines.  We are constantly seeing our deer population enjoying themselves around these plants as well and for the natives that would have proven the fortunate turn of events.  Driving by yards decorated with gourds and corn stalks, I can’t help but think about people gathering from carefully tended gardens things that would sustain them through the coming winter with what is now used as seasonal ornamentation.  Such produce would have been seen as priceless commodities, as life giving blessings from the earth and now we take such harvests and adorn them with faces and place them on our porches serving no other purpose other than to prove how festive we are.

We’ve come a long way from those peoples.  I can claim them as mine though the amount of native DNA that I have is miniscule.  I do have a love for this land and all it has to offer that is somewhat hard to explain so perhaps that tiny bit of genetic information has left its mark.  Being able to casually walk into my yard and find such richness growing wild probably lends even more to my affection for my homeland. Just recently in looking for the few muscadines that all of the creatures hadn’t been able to reach I thought I had come across some new variant.  There high in a tree amongst the dark fruit, I discovered a new blush toned variety intermingled.  I marveled at the vast differences between them until I realized that these grape vines were wrapped around a persimmon tree also in full production.  This tree must be what the deer population would refer to as the holy grail of indulgences.  I daresay there were any number of them waiting frustrated just beyond the trees for my departure.

Though, we have become accustomed to the luxury of supermarkets and online shopping, sometimes just the tiniest bit of effort displays to us a bounty that has truly grown right under our noses that we clearly take for granted.  I am going to make a conscious effort as we are immersed in this time of harvest to remember those people who were here before us that were sowers and reapers. Those that hunted and gathered. They took from the land but saw it for the treasure trove that it is.  I can take roughly five steps from my front door and take handfuls of sweet delicacies.  How have I been so blind as to not revel in this?!  My very distant ancestors would be appalled and I think I should be too.  We are given gifts like this so often, especially here.  And honestly even if the products of your enjoyment do come from your local grocer, somewhere this God-given gift was taken from the earth.  What a wonderful gift!  We are a blessed people.  We would do well to look to those in the past who knew of their blessings and appreciated them.  We have so many gifts worth cherishing.