My family loves raspberries. When we lived in New Mexico they were not as easy to come by as they are in New England. The climate is great here for growing all kinds of berries. A few years ago, I decided I would buy my husband a raspberry bush for Father’s Day. Actually, I found them on sale and bought three. I didn’t plant them right away and only one ended up surviving. The one that made it is a monster of a bush, it produces long spiney arms, with sharp, skinny thorns that reach out to stab those who dare approach it.
It has been in the ground for three years and has been producing raspberries for the last two. Last year I very carefully covered it with netting so birds and other animals would not eat my precious, very first crop of berries, before I had a chance to harvest them. The netting is a pain to deal with, it gets caught on everything. This year I left it off to see what would happen. Nothing. The berries were there for me to collect day after day. I was surprised at first but then realized, as I was rubbing the scratches on my arms, it would be dangerous for any animal (including human) to attempt to pick these berries! You must proceed at your own risk.
I collected more than 10 cups of raspberries this year. It would have been more but a family of raspberry lovers were eating them while picking. This includes my two year old granddaughter who insisted each berry go into her mouth, not in the bowl.
When I was a little girl I fondly remember going to my grandmother’s house in the summer and eating black berries off the bushes along her fence. I realize now that I planted a memory in my backyard. My children and grandchildren can come and eat of it for years to come.
Do you pick berries with your grandkids?