Originally posted 9/19/2020
One of my favorite activities when I spent time on my grandparents’ farm was picking blackberries. We would go out early, before the heat of the day. Grandmom always insisted that we wear long sleeves, pants, gloves and hats, which was tough in the middle of the summer but very necessary. For those who don’t know, blackberry bushes have thorns—and they are sharp! Grandpop drove the tractor with a trailer on the back. Grandmom and I would be in the trailer so we could reach the bushes without having to stand in the surrounding brush. Grandpop pulled up as close to the bushes he could get, and we would start picking. As we picked, we sorted them into empty ice cream buckets. There were days that we spent hours picking, finding ripe berries on all the bushes and picking from just after breakfast until lunchtime. The best time to pick was just after rain. The berries were so juicy—and the thorns weren’t quite as sharp. Our gloves, sleeves, and often our boots got stained with blackberry juice as we continued to pick. Grandpop took the same path every time, just to be sure that we were checking each bush thoroughly. Even though we all knew that we had gotten them all and the new ones didn’t ripen overnight, I tried to talk them into going out picking every morning just in case we had missed some.
When we finished picking, we had to soak the berries (I learned that spiders really like hiding in blackberries!), wash them, and then we could finally eat! It was so hard to be patient at first, though the possibility of spiders made it easier to wait. We made cobbler, jelly & danishes; and we packed some of them to freeze for later. My favorite way to eat them was fresh with a bowl of vanilla ice cream. It was the taste of summer. No blackberries I have eaten since those summers have been the same as the ones we picked in the morning and ate after lunch.
Thanks for reading! 😊 EW