In the village of Joun, the first mulberries of the season are ready.

My father’s uncle Khalil, a quiet man of the land, gardener to others and farmer for himself, asked me to come along. He wanted me to taste the first berries from two trees he had been tending. I often follow him on these small, unhurried walks. There is something about the way he moves through gardens, as though time itself slows down.

I brought my camera with me.