Never enough

I simply cannot get enough. If half of our property were planted in black raspberries, it would not be enough. Every night for the last three nights, my dinner has consisted of almost a pint of black raspberries, in addition to all the sugar snap peas I eat while weeding and tending the garden. I get scratched (because my half-assed training attempt failed and they sprawl everywhere), and sweaty, and dirty, but it is so very, very worth it. I guess half of the appeal is that they are so very brief. And they bring back memories of being a kid. My brother and sister and I would get geared up at the end of every June. On what always turned out to be the hottest day, the berries would be a peak ripeness. We would put on long pants and long-sleeved shirts and hats and shoes and socks and head out behind our house. There was a large field surrounded with woods, and at the edge were many, many black raspberries. There were also a few hedgerows and then a long line of businesses and parking lots, behind which were woods, so the entire long line was fringed with berry bushes. We would pick easily 20 quarts at least. As much as we could carry. My mom would make pies and jam and for our dinner on the night we picked, we were allowed to have a giant bowl of sugared berries served on melty vanilla ice-cream. We would come back with bleeding fingers and poison ivy and more bug bites than you coudl shake a stick at, but it was so worth it. They are probably my favorite fruit.

Three very guilty chickens. The rooster is still with us. I just can't decide if I want to get rid of him yet. But he leads the girls to do very bad things. Like create dust baths in newly mulched beds and rooting up the maltese cross.