In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:

>23. Dewberries July 5, 1912 Dear Mother, I’m ten weeks pregnant.This one is so different from the first. I suffer with more nausea than I did with Andrew, and I have weak spells. Brooks called the doctor over last night after I fainted on the front steps. Eveline brought me to with smelling salts, and when Dr. Steiger got here, he ordered me straight to bed and told me to stay here for a week. Brooks had to go into his office today, but before he went,he drove to the drug store to pick up prescriptions for the dizziness and nausea even though I assured him I wouldn’t take them. I tried to explain to him how much more effective and safe a few ginger infusions would be, but he said I was not allowed out of bed and he was not about to make them for me. He scolded me for thinking I could know what I needed better than a trained medical professional . Coral is here. I know she would do it if I asked, but I also know she is half scared of Brooks, and I don’t want to put her in the middle . I’ll call Eveline and ask her to bake some of her wonderful gingerbread . A slice of it each day should do the trick. I’m excited about the baby. I know it will be difficult with Andrew still toddling about the house at the speed of sound, but I’m glad my children will be close in age. I’m sure you remember how I yearned for a brother or sister when I was growing up.I hope my children will be lifelong companions.Wouldn’t it be delicious if this one were a girl? Perhaps that’s a wicked thing to write; I couldn’t have 202 experienced more joy with any child than I have with Andrew, so another little boy would surely be a blessing. I’ve had a girl’s name picked out since before Andrew was born, but I can’t tell you what it is yet because I’m afraid I’ll jinx it. I’d have to think about a boy’s name. Brooks and I agonized over finding the right name for Andrew, and if there’s one thing I’ve learned for sure, the right name is crucial. For instance, yesterday Brooks and I took Andrew on a picnic with Eveline andThomas, and on the way home, I found a bramble of blackberries. As we picked some for pie,Thomas said in Boston they call them “dewberries.”Then, when Coral got here this morning and brought a dish up with my breakfast, she referred to them as “gooseberries.” I told her they were blackberries, and she assured me in Kentucky she had never heard them called anything but gooseberries . I began to wonder if Shakespeare was right.Would a rose smell as sweet as a rose were it not called a rose?Would a blackberry taste as sweet as a blackberry were it called a dewberry or a gooseberry? So, I decided to conduct my own blackberry experiment. I closed my eyes, cleared my mind as well as I could, and recited the word “dewberry ” a hundred times before I popped one in my mouth,and I kept repeating the word in my mind as I ate it. It tasted like wet grass. Then I did the same thing with the “gooseberry.” It tasted like damp earth but tingled on the sides of my tongue, and believe it or not, my arms broke out in goose pimples. Of course, I repeated the process reciting the word “blackberry.” It tasted more like I thought a blackberry should, but more bittersweet than sweet. And as I swallowed the last tiny seed, I experienced a strange flash of visions that included the seats in Jewel’s new car, a grackle that scolded me in my backyard last month, my friend Morgan’s eyes, the feel of the sun on my shoulders, and the sting of the brush on my ankles as we gathered berries in the meadow down the lane. I was shocked that these images passed through my mind before I remembered the pies and 203 Dewberries cobblers we used to bake and the jams we put up every summer— for these are the blackberry memories dearest to my heart and the ones that prompted me to ask Brooks to...


Additional Information

Related ISBN
MARC Record
Launched on MUSE
Open Access
Back To Top

This website uses cookies to ensure you get the best experience on our website. Without cookies your experience may not be seamless.