Mulberry Haiku

(The art of Japanese Haiku poetry involves three line stanzas, usually in lengths of 5, 7 and 5 syllables respectively. This post is my humble attempt at a Haiku approach to every day chores.)

Evil Mulberry
Leathery leaves unwilling
To decompose now

Squirrel autobahn
You gave access to the house
For creekside varmints

We prune you early
Before the leaves turn and fall
Branches chopped, leaves gone

Yellow fibrous leaves
Packed into recycle bin

Make us smile in peace

And now the backstory: for years we have mulched birch tree and liquid amber leaves into the vegetable garden area to improve the soil. What was once nearly impenetrable clay is now cake-flour like soil in which vegetables thrive in summer.

Mulberry leaves are fibrous, leathery and very reluctant to decompose. In Spring when the rototiller is asked to do the heavy work of turning the layers of soil, leaves and other vegetable matter, the Mulberry leaves sneer in denial. They form a slimy, almost chamois-like layer which merely churns around in an ever-thickening wad on the rototiller's tines. The only remedy is to remove this mess by hand, a very unpleasant task indeed.

So we have learned to prune the Mulberry BEFORE the leaves fall. Cutting the branches into lengths which fit in the bin, green leaves and all, we eliminate the double handling of the nasty leaves. And we really upset the squirrels by denying them easy access to the roof of the house from their nests in the Buckeye trees along the creek.