Life got in the way between 2013 and 2022 when writer Maraley McMichael was finally able to plant 14 black currant plants at the edge of a new lawn. Each year, her harvest grows.
Black currants hanging from the mother plant in August 2020.
Black currant bush babies in a freshly weed-whacked area, waiting for a permanent home.
Three years ago this month, I finally planted my black currant berry patch -a total of 14 plants-along the sloping edge of my year-old lawn. It was such a wonderful feeling of accomplishment to complete a project that was 10 years in the making.
Normally, to develop a successful berry patch, a person would identify a location and prepare the ground before or at least at the same time as acquiring the berry plants, but not me. Those kinds of considerations rarely seem to come together for my projects, and this particular endeavor was more long term than usual, even for me. I almost gave up more than once.
I was introduced to red currants in 1986 when my husband Gary and I bought a house off the Parks Highway. Mature red currant bushes came with the landscape. The house we downsized to in 1993 had undisturbed natural landscape, but over the years, we put in a lawn, flower beds, and a row of raspberries, but no currant bushes. After we moved to Slana in 1999, I could pick all the wild red and black currants I needed by walking into the woods behind our house-enough for ourselves and for my jam-and jelly-making side business for our bed and breakfast guests.
For health reasons, we moved back to Palmer in fall 2011. That last summer living in our Slana house, I noticed a plant sprout up next to the big rock at the base of the rain gutter downspout in the flower bed at the side of the front entry steps. I had not planted anything there and was curious about its identity. The blossoms eventually showed it to be a currant bush. Perhaps a bird dropped a seed. Who knows? But it was a very happy accident. By the time we made the big move in mid-August, I could see the berries were turning black! Even better! But the berries were not ripe enough to pick before our move.
Shortly after we got settled into our new house in Palmer, I got a call from a Slana neighbor. She said she was walking around our place (knowing we'd moved) checking on things for us and saw all the huge black currants hanging from the bush... She asked if she could pick them so they wouldn't go to waste. She said she wanted to make jam with them and would give us a jar. I agreed. We did plan one more trip up there, but by then the berries would have frozen and thawed multiple times and most likely fallen off the bush.
The next spring when we made a trip to Slana to get another load of belongings, I checked on the currant bush. It appeared to be doing fine, with the leaf buds just opening. And there were several baby currant bush seedlings of various sizes at the base. Before we left, I dug out the babies, put them in a plastic grocery bag, and took them back to Palmer. I was excited to think we might be able to have some black currant bushes in our new Palmer landscape.
In spring 2013, we again returned to Slana for another load. (Our potential buyers had backed out and now there didn't seem to be much interest.) When I checked the black currant bush, it hadn't grown any bigger but it was healthy. A solid mass of greenery at the base turned out to be over 50 seedlings, each about 1-inch tall. Since my neighbor had not called about picking the berries the previous fall, perhaps they all fell to the ground and with the help of the water from the downspout, had clumped into a group and sprouted. This time the babies were so small I had to use a spoon to gather them from the soil and put them in a food container so they wouldn't get lost or crushed during our five-hour drive home. I had come prepared to dig up the mother plant and did so.
A lot happened between 2013 and 2022. There was a blue ribbon at the Alaska State Fair for the berries from the mother plant, numerous Valley Garden Club plant sales, a ton of rain in August 2016 that nearly killed the baby plants with powdery mildew, and Gary had broken his hip and could no longer help on yard projects with his tractor, requiring me to seek professional landscaping help. Then the COVID-19 pandemic struck. Spring 2022 brought Gary's move to the Palmer Veterans and Pioneer Home and a huge garage sale.
Finally in June 2022 I could plant my long-awaited black currant patch, but if spaced according to recommendations, only 14 plants would fit in the area at the edge of the new lawn. I gave some away and sold the remaining plants for $13 each at the 2023 Valley Garden plant sale. Amazingly, that one mother plant (which began in 2011) produced approximately $250 worth of plants in two plant sales eight years apart, as well as what I kept for my own use.
Nowadays, I'm so thankful to have my own little black currant berry patch. The harvest quantity increases each summer, now producing enough to freeze for my own use. No more jams and jellies (with added sugar) for me since 2018 - just straight berries or berry juice. And I seem to treasure eating them more, just remembering how much trouble and effort went into them. I'm glad I persevered.
Maraley McMichael is a lifelong Alaskan now residing in Palmer. Email her at maraleymcmichael@gmail.com.
