Atlanta’s mulberry trees went from Colonial experiment to forager fave

It wasn’t just about the drinks, though. Foraging mulberries became a family ritual, a way to connect to the natural world when so much else felt precarious. “It was so fun to go on berry-picking walks with my family,” Lerner said. “You forget that things can be free. It was a way to introduce my children to where food comes from — and how it grows.”

A Colonial pipe dream

Long before backyard foragers like Lerner rediscovered the mulberry’s quiet magic, Georgia’s founders pinned far grander dreams on the humble tree.

In 1734, Gen. James Oglethorpe founded the Trustee Garden, a 10-acre experimental plot modeled after the great botanical gardens of England, in Savannah a year after the town was established. The Trustees — the group of idealistic Englishmen overseeing Georgia’s settlement — hoped to transform the young colony into a producer of prized commodities like wine and silk. Mulberry trees, specifically the white mulberry (Morus alba), were planted with urgency, their leaves intended to feed the delicate silkworms whose threads would weave prosperity for the crown.

Silk, after all, wasn’t just a luxury; it was a symbol of refinement and a promising export. Settlers were required to plant mulberry trees on their plots, and Italian silk makers were imported to teach the craft of sericulture. For a time, Savannah bustled with this strange mix of agriculture and ambition, as Colonists tried to coax silk from the humid Georgia air.

But the dream proved far more delicate than the shimmering fabric itself. Georgia’s climate was too harsh, its settlers too few and too burdened by survival to nurture temperamental silkworms. Despite moments of promise, the silk industry faltered, and the Trustee Garden’s grand experiments faded into memory.

Still, mulberry trees remained — resilient, adaptable, quietly rooting themselves into the Georgia landscape long after the silk dreams had withered.

A century later, the mulberry would once again capture American imaginations — this time on a truly feverish scale.

A second go at silk making

As historian Amy Chambliss detailed in a 1960 article for the Georgia Review, the 1830s saw the rise of the so-called “mulberry craze,” a short-lived but intense national obsession with silk production. A new variety of white mulberry tree, Morus multicaulis, had arrived from China, boasting large, tender leaves and an ability to grow at astonishing speed. With two harvests possible each season, many believed it would finally unlock the long-promised riches of American silk.

Speculators and farmers alike rushed to plant the miracle tree. Government reports extolled the moral benefits of silk work — gentle labor for women, children, the elderly — while entrepreneurs traded mulberry cuttings like gold. Stories circulated of fortunes made almost overnight: farmers who turned a few dollars’ investment into thousands by selling cuttings, not silk. Entire fortunes were gambled on the new trees, with saplings selling for extraordinary sums — sometimes hundreds of dollars per hundred trees.

The excitement swept through New England and the mid-Atlantic, creeping southward into Virginia and the Carolinas. In Georgia, where Colonial silk efforts were still remembered, some planters caught mulberry fever, but the state largely avoided the worst excesses.

By the end of 1839, the mulberry bubble burst. A financial panic hit, tree prices plummeted and a harsh freeze destroyed many young plantations. Even worse for the industry, tastes in fashion were shifting: Silk was falling out of style in favor of cheaper, hardier fabrics like cotton and wool. By 1844, a blight finished off much of the remaining mulberry stock. America’s dream of a homegrown silk empire evaporated once again — undone not only by speculation and weather, but also by the whims of fashion.

Still, the mulberry trees endured, and crossbred with one another, quietly rooting themselves into backyards, fence lines and forgotten corners of the American landscape. Today’s mulberries in Georgia are a mishmash of the native red tree, and the white and black mulberries that were imported from Asia. This is why wild mulberries across our state can range from white to lavender to red to deep purple.

‘Better than a blackberry’

Today, mulberry trees are an integral part of Atlanta’s urban landscape.

“Mulberry trees are like weeds,” said Katherine Kennedy, executive director of Concrete Jungle, a nonprofit focused on food insecurity and urban foraging. “They will grow in a crack in the sidewalk and in all sorts of places other trees won’t grow.”

A decade ago, Concrete Jungle began by mapping fruit trees in public spaces throughout metro Atlanta, including mulberries, peaches, plums, pears, persimmons and figs, providing a resource for urban foragers. The organization still organizes volunteer-led harvest days, educating the public about agriculture and the environment, but their primary focus has shifted to addressing food insecurity by bringing large-scale food donations to communities in need.​

According to Kennedy, there are 449 mulberry trees identified in metro Atlanta and 25 on their Athens map, though she believes there are many more yet to be cataloged. “All in, there are more than 4,000 trees listed in our database of various species. And that’s really just scratching the surface of what all is out there,” she said.​

Mulberries, with their variable taste and messy reputation, are often overlooked.

“Mulberries get a bad rap because they make such a huge mess. But I think they are better than a blackberry,” said Kennedy, who describes the flavor as sweet, without the tangy acidity of other berries.

Mulberry trees are easy to identify. Their leaves are shaped like a mitten, and they have clustered berries (like a blackberry) that range in color. Kennedy says sometimes it is best to look at the ground when you are foraging; … if you see some mulberries on the ground, you know there is a tree nearby. She advises foragers to try a few berries before committing to a full harvest, as their flavor can range from sweet to watery depending on the cultivar and growing conditions.​

Despite their challenges, mulberries hold a special place in the urban ecosystem. They are a food source for various wildlife and offer an accessible entry point for people to engage with nature. “We think exposure to the natural environment, and learning where food comes from is so very important for our community,” Kennedy said.

Back in Decatur, Lerner’s mulberry tree continues to flourish, its branches heavy with fruit this spring. She looks forward to harvesting more berries with her kids on their walks, until their hands become stained purple.

“We would like to have a garden, but don’t have the time or space for one,” Lerner said. “Foraging for mulberries is the most entry of entry level of harvesting food from nature.”

In a way, the mulberry tree has come to symbolize Georgia’s own journey — from Colonial ambitions of silk production to the modern embrace of urban foraging and community engagement.

As mulberries ripen and are gathered each season (generally in May with a few weeks in April or June, depending on climate), they carry with them stories of the past and present — of dreams deferred and rediscovered, of communities nourished, and of families and foragers finding connection and joy beneath the canopy of a humble tree

Recipes

Mulberry juice

Instructions:

Source: ​Dryer Enthusiast

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Mulberry Bramble Cocktail

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Source: ​peckofpickles.com.au

Mulberry Sparkler Mocktail

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Homemade Mulberry Jam (no pectin)

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