Wild crops, and how to tame Missouri's chiggers

Back in the day, in the Ozark hills over yonder, the bounty of the wild yielded a good portion of what we ate.

For example: In the spring we went looking for greens, which grew along the roads and fields around our farm. I had no idea we were eating weeds. My mother's family and her mother's family had always gathered greens. With enough bacon fat and vinegar, they were downright tasty.

Later came blackberry season. Picking blackberries came a few weeks after what my mother called "blackberry winter." That was when the briar patches were loaded with blossoms and a cold wind would rip down the valley, threatening much of what was already planted in the garden.

Blackberry picking is not easy. It is hard work. Blackberries ripen on briars, and the briars are nasty scratchers and cutters. I had a couple of aunts who dressed in men's jeans, denim work shirts and high-top shoes and bravely waded into even the most serious briar patches. They survived.

Many of the briars grew in fencerows that crossed the fields of neighbors. It was always expected that you would ask for -- and receive -- permission to pick blackberries from nearby farmers. You didn't want to take "their" berries if they were in the middle of making jams and pies. Likewise, they wouldn't think of picking the berries in the fence along the lane that crossed Killough Valley and connected with the old toll road that went all the way down to the river.

In any given briar patch there are other hazards besides the prickly barbs. There were snakes, of course. And ticks. And chiggers.

After a day of blackberry picking, it was important to search for little critters that might have attached themselves to our body. Chiggers? You didn't have to look far. The welts all around your ankles were a sure sign you would be scratching for a while.

Some folks used kerosene to quell the itch. This is known as the pain-trumps-itching remedy.

Remember all those home remedies … for wasp stings, cut fingers, spider bites? Most of them included kerosene or chewing tobacco. Or both. And here we are today, collecting Social Security and griping about this year's crop of mosquitoes.

After blackberry season had passed, we looked forward to wild grapes and plums and even crab apples. All of them could be turned into sweet delights with enough sugar.

Most of the time the best wild grapes grew on vines high up in trees. How to get them down? I had an uncle who could shoot squirrels dancing in the limbs. He got the notion that he could shoot the grape vines, too. And they would fall low enough to gather the fruit. So he did. And my aunt always had a large stock of wild grape jelly, which does not taste anything like Welch's.

Persimmons were another wild crop. They could be gathered after the first frost, which completed the ripening process. They were good for puddings and pies.

Sometime during the summer/early fall you could find papaws, if you knew where to look. Eating a papaw is like eating a huge persimmon. It's pretty messy, but the treat is well worth the stains on your good shirt.

Between gathering what God had planted here and there across the woods and fields and the hunting and fishing most everyone did, it was possible to eat pretty well. Gardens provided for canned goodies that would last all year. And since we raised cattle and hogs, we always had plenty of beef and pork at the frozen food locker in town. The chickens in the orchard provided eggs and drumsticks. And let's not forget the milk and butter from Lulu, the Jersey milk cow.

Are you hungry? Me, too.

If it's OK with you, let's start with the blackberry cobbler and work our way through this year's harvest -- including the corn on the cob and peaches that are showing up at farmers markets.

Watch out for chiggers.

Joe Sullivan is the retired editor of the Southeast Missourian.