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blackberry orgies

Blackberries, all I see when I close my eyes is blackberries. Lush clusters of purple-black berries glistening sweetly in the sunshine amidst dark green foliage and ominous prickles.

I saw Daniel off this morning with a kiss, three of the biggest sandwiches I've ever helped make and a sack of freshly harvested cherry tomatoes(his favorite garden snack).

Boy, did he get all scratched up! Those blackberries really took vengeance for our plundering yesterday. They even tore into his legs through his Carhardt jeans- poor thing, he looked like he'd been wrestling with a tiger!

No complaints, yo. We sure had an awesome day and took home a simply astounding amount of berries-filled every tupperware, and two gigantic stewpots.

The kids(my son, Samadhi and his six year old friend Rowan) had a blast gorging on berries, stomping on dry leaves and adventuring on secret paths where adults fear to tread(there's a dragon, you know-the fearsome prickly Blackberry Dragon who, of course, only eats grownups).

We wandered farther and farther off the beaten path until we came to blackberry heaven-it was absolutely crazy-amazing how plentiful the berries were there. They covered the bushes like a thick juicy blanket. Cara, Daniel and I picked and picked and picked while the kids giggled and giggled and giggled. By the time we were done it was getting dark, we were starving, scratched up, all sticky purple fingers and faces. So Daniel took us out for pizza on the way home. Yum.

It was a thoroughly satisfying day.

I'm gonna miss that boy.


Woops, I forgot the orgies part.

Unfortunately, that was only in our heads. We were gazing into the enormous tub of glistening berries and imagining the naked fun of taking them home, spreading out a plastic drop cloth and romping and rolling and feasting until you couldn't tell the purple people apart from the purple people eaters...

Then Daniel suggested the big blow up kiddie pool and it became more of a blackberry wrestling fantasy than an orgy. Easier to clean up certainly, but I think the neighbors might freak and I'd hate to have to try and explain it to the authorities...Nude sticky purple people just don't get any respect.

We decided to freeze the berries for cobbler, pies, cakes and other delicious socially acceptable items.


Mmmm blackberries! Your post reminds me of picking blackberries at my grandmother's house with my sister, and as long as you could find berries, who cared if you got scratched?

Ummmhmm. It takes me back too.

We used to roam the woods(in Northern Maine)and plunder the berries... Blackberries in the deep forest, blueberries from the barrens along the coastal clifftops, strawberries along the highway(against the wisdom of our parents who warned dire consequences for ingesting polluted berries and raspberries from the garden.

Those are some of my happiest memories-filling up giant pails and stuffing our faces 'til we were all purply and our stomachs began to protest.

Getting scratched up always seemed kind of a necessary part of it, like payment for the berries or at least the just desserts of having gleefully stomped and plundered so much.