Black Berry Season

Dorothy was looking out the patio doors this morning and noticed some color in the black berry patch. We took a bucket and some loppers out there to see how much we could harvest. It's the first picking so we knew it wouldn't be much. We use the loppers to eliminate any interfering weeds and black berry branches that are in the way.

 

 

Picking black berries is a tricky business. The vines grab your

skin and clothes and won't let go. It seems that the fattest and blackest

berries are always hidden deep in the center of the patch. I keep after

them because I have this image in my mind of home made ice cream

smothered in syrupy black berries. I'm careful to maintain my balance

when I'm reaching for those berries that  are hardest to get at because

if I fall into the vines I won't be able to extricate myself unassisted and

I don't know if Dorothy loves me enough to risk getting herself caught

in there with me. That would require a 911 call.

 

 

As you can see the thorns are unmerciful.  After picking the berries

it's necessary to pick the thorns from your skin.

 

 

After we picked that patch clean we drove the truck around

the pasture looking for more bushes.  Then we walked down

to the creek for the first time this summer. It's flowing but

not at the usual level. Looks like another drought is upon us.

 

 

 

 

The swimming hole is still deep  enough for the grand kids to play in.

 

 

 

All those thorns and bleeding for

this bowl of berries. Each picking will yield

more and when I'm eating my first bowl

of black berry cobbler I'll forget about

all the trouble.