When I was a child we used to get up at dawn and walk through the woods [well, maybe it wasn't dawn? But dang it sure was early!!!] to go berry picking.
The first day we went after black berries it was usually pretty fun. We carried lard buckets with twine string tied to the handles so we could sling them over our shoulders and pick with two hands.
Grandma would lead us to the berry picking patch of wild black caps or berries. [I'm never sure which to call them.]
That was then. This is now.
Morris and I went for a 'berry' walk the other day. We found several areas where we could pick a few berries.
But then we hit the motherload of all berry patches.
The wild yellow raspberries again!
I think I could have stayed there most of the day and just picked and shoved the delicious berries into my mouth.
But being the nice and sweet person I am, I picked enough to fill the large water bottle I'd brought along.
I mixed the yellow berries with the black berries.
I think I need to go back very soon and see how many more I can pick!
When picking them on your own time, it doesn't seem to be a chore, but rather an adventure. As a child it wasn't quite so fun to find these berries. Perhaps it was the hot woods, the bugs, the thorns, and the fact that we generally didn't eat most of the berries ourselves but sold them that made it so much less fun to pick.
But then again.
If I have Morris along, it is always fun...he tries to pick and eat his own berries!
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