All I wanted last summer was for someone to plant me a mulberry tree. I miss mulberries like I miss some of my childhood memories.

Back on the farm in Nebraska we didn’t have any mulberry trees on our land although we had a wonderful green apple tree in our backyard.

Because we didn’t have any of those trees my mother would wake me up on a summer morning, load me in the car and take me out to my uncle’s farm. This is where we would put ladders up on the side of the road and pick us some mulberries.

I hated my hands turning purple but as soon as I had a bite of mulberry pie or spread some of my mother’s mulberry jam on a piece of bread I was in heaven.

I live in Texas now and mulberry trees are considered weeds. (These Texans are sometimes just dumb in the head) All I can say is that they never tasted my Mom’s mulberry jam.

I know several people who own land and I have tried my hardest to get them to plant me some mulberry trees. I have not had any takers on that idea.

This spring I have enjoyed walking through my neighborhood. I live in the coolest neighborhood in the whole world. It has a creek running through it and lush vegetation, the neighbors are nice and the HOA does not harass us with unneeded suggestions.

On one of my walks I was looking at the sidewalk and noticed a whole bunch of purple stains on it. I looked up and I saw limbs full to overflowing of mulberries! I was ecstatic.

After I came home I got some latex gloves on to shield my hands from the purple stain and went to pick me some mulberries.

It sometimes just amazes me that God is so good. He didn’t convince any of my friends that they needed to plant me a mulberry tree because he had already planted three just a short walk from my home. If that isn’t a loving Father I don’t know what is.