Finally spurred to begin writing tonight, on the way home from collecting grape leaves from gardens that have overgrown their boundaries into pathways - free for the taking? I suppose so - no one cares, anyway. They will be blanched, filled with a mix of bulghur, vegetables and herbs and then cooked for 45 minutes in a water bath, just like the Greek ones.
We live in a totally suburban neighbourhood, a bedroom community, as it were, and we can harvest mushrooms, berries (straw, blue, rasp, black, and cran), wild apples/crabapples/pears, sorrel, dandelions and more, all within an hour's walk, and mostly all still in the hidden pockets of wilderness hiding between streets or narrowly stretched along streams.
We also find cast-offs, jetsam, treasures - bikes, wooden boards or planters or boxes, a perfect pair of leather boots - this is my account of the things we have gathered, and found useful; just so I remember it all.