They told me mulberries make a mess. I believed. Clad in mulberry-matching old togs, I spent a productive hour this arvo with Gwenda at the Tree of Nola; not the tree of knowledge, although I came away with the knowledge that the tales (about the mess) are true. Washing the unforbidden fruit was essential, and apologies to all the small green caterpillers, plus the one ladybird which was escorted off the premises. This was unfair to the caterpillers but it was too inconvenient by then to return them to the tree - at the other end of town. The berries (and any missed creepy crawlies) were stewed and delicious. Plenty left, in fridge, on the stove, and on the tree. Thank you, Nola.