As I was mowing my grass I noticed the wild blackberries growing along my fence were ripe. Actually, they are in different stages of ripeness. I sampled a few and their sweet, juicy taste took me back to my childhood.
Fond memories of picking blackberries with my grandmother came back clearly like it was yesterday. With our buckets filled we would walk home though the woods happy with the anticipation of having blackberry cobbler for dessert that night. It never failed that my arms and sometimes legs would be covered with scratches from the wicked briars on these wild plants. I didn't mind the scratches and I knew my grandmother would paint them with this red-orange stuff called Mercurochrome (sp?) that would stain my skin for days. I wonder if they still sell that stuff?
I know there are thorn-less blackberry plants that produce larger berries....but I wouldn't trade them for my wild ones and the memories of spending quality time with my beloved Grandma Grace!
Notice the nice ripes berries in my pictures? They are now history. I picked them this morning for breakfast. The birds really like them so I have to be quick to get a few.
Well....by for now. I need to get ready for work.
Peace to All!