Berry Picking

Hello, Leroy had checked out the wild blackberries and announced that we should go pick this morning. It was cool, but a bit damp from the wonderful ½ inch of rain yesterday. We headed out anyway. I would guess that it is over one mile away. We have to fight feeling a little tired by the time we get there. These black raspberry vines are in a steep, brambly, hillside. The city has cut it back some, but the steep hill stops them from getting all of them. We could not figure out how to safely get to part of it so we left them for the birds, insects, or other animals that might like them. We got scratches, weed seed passengers on clothes, and almost two quarts of berries. I was quite pleased. They were sweet and good with many more to follow. It is challenging to consider going back, but in two days we will have renewed stamina. On the walk home we saw, a younger guy who stopped to pick some blackberries growing along the trail. He was walking his dog and wearing shorts and short sleeved. He was not ready to head into the rough no nonsense briars. He did know about the place we had just been. He also recommended another spot, but I am not sure where it is. Usually, we see other older people eating the berries by the trail, I asked, “How do you know about picking berries?” “I grew up in the Amanas.” He replied. He had gone to college in this area and just now moved back for a job. He also picked mulberries. Nice to have some conversation about nature. There are younger people who will carry on the tradition. Paula