Bramble - Rubus fruticosus agg
Ouch!! I hear myself say as once again a bramble attacks me or defends itself, the same thing I guess. I literally keep a needle on my bedside table to pick out those little tips of bramble thorn that impale themselves into my hand, persisting in reddening and irritating more until I dig them out. How can something so small hurt so much?
The bramble is, in my mind, one of the few wild plants that is untameable, truly wild. Its nature unboundable in any horticultural sense.
For so much of the year it is a weed in the garden or a hindrance to country walks, taking as its own, field gates and styles, an absolute pain in the...ars…neck. Until, that is, the latter end of summer and in autumn, then it takes on a whole new persona, the sweet, delicious, finger staining delight of the blackberry.
Its wild nature doesn’t stop there though. We all know what a blackberry is right! But ask a botanist and watch them go pale as they hope they are not going to have to describe what taxonomic classification it fits into. For what is just a bramble to you or me, is one of an untold number of subspecies of its overarching latin name Rubus fruticosus, or Rubus fruticosus agg (aggregate) to be more correct and to allow for a large amount of speculation on the subject. In John Wright’s The Forager’s Calendar, 350 or so ‘micro-species’ is the number aired and Richard Maybe in his Flora Britannica mentions 400 but these numbers are something of a finger held to the wind. Such is the ambiguity of this plant that if you were an expert in their study you would have your own ‘ology’ as a batologist. Worth remembering that one for a pub quiz question!
These different plants lead to many and varied fruits, some small and hard, others sour, still more large and succulent. If you find a good one remember it and keep it to yourself because all blackberries are not alike and you may not find another as good!
I shouldn’t really be writing about blackberries for the October edition of the News, however, as folk law has it that if you eat them after Michaelmas, the 29th September, the Devil is supposed to have spat on them. This event, we would be led to believe, occurred when Lucifer, after fighting with Archangel Michael, was somewhat peeved after landing on a blackberry bush. Another reason might be because Michaelmas was, in medieval times, a useful date to delineate the seasons, ending the harvest and preparing for the coming winter. But it is most likely because of the grey mold or bacteria that are more prevalent in this season and can turn the fruit sour.
If you find a nice juicy blackberry in October go ahead and eat it I say but watch out for those thorns!
Image by Eric Michelat from Pixabay
