When I was little my grandmother lived on a large piece of land, probably more than a half-acre with lots of trees and vegetation. Running along one of the property fences were blackberry bushes. I am not sure if she planted them or they were there when she moved in. When the berries were ripe, we were out there picking them. With four grandchildren picking and eating they were gone in a matter of days. My grandmother didn’t care, she knew we liked them. It is a nice memory of summers at grandma’s house.
At my house I have a huge raspberry bush. Last week the berries started to ripen. I was excited about it, so I arranged for my grandchildren to come over for lunch. Afterwards, grandpa took them both out to the bush and picked the ones that were ripe.
It is a very prickly bush but the berries are delicious and worth the peril to obtain them. My oldest granddaughter picked them last year and was excited when I told her some of the berries were ready to eat. The youngest one doesn’t quite understand the difference between a ripe berry and everything else. She still wanted to participate, so she kept picking the unripen fruit. This time next year they will both be picking and eating the raspberries…along with grandpa.
Hopefully, they too will have warm memories of picking and eating berries in the summer at grandma’s house. 🙂
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