I have vague memories of picking blackberries as a child. Lots of poked fingers, some definite tension between the adults and a scary dog that kept barking at us to scram. But those associations have been replaced: epic humidity, only a few jabs to fingertips, and a deep awareness of the beauty of the experience.
Because how often do you happen upon loads of wild blackberries when you aren't on a schedule to be somewhere else and you can relax into the experience of eating fruit warm from the sun? The only downside is how quickly they are eaten by bright-eyed toddlers. So we will return soon, hungry for another little bit of wildness.
