Blackberries

Fresh-picked wild blackberries, thanks to my sister Pat.

Growing up in Michigan, it seems like there was some kind of berry ready for picking all summer long.  While we grew strawberries and red raspberries in our own garden,  it took a trip to the countryside or Grandpa Allen’s chicken yard to find two of my favorites, wild blackcaps and blackberries. Mom knew where to harvest huckleberries, elderberries and mulberries, too.

I especially hated picking blackberries because of their long sharp thorns. Of course, they were always ripe for picking on the hottest days of summer. Mom made sure my siblings and I wore long pants, long-sleeved shirts, and shoes to go berry-picking. (Except for Sunday school, berry-picking was one of the few times we wore shoes in summer.)

The thing that kept us going, of course, was the promise of berries on our Corn Flakes, berry shortcake made with sweet biscuit dough, and berry jam on toast.

I snapped the picture above while in Michigan last month. Looks like my little sister and her husband will have some good eating next winter!

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