Blood, sweat, and berries

The snow and ice is still piled up outside. My front porch is as slick as a skating rink, and my car doors are undoubtedly frozen shut (when your car is over 20 years old, that happens). So, again, I bring you some summer solace.

When James and I visit the farms we almost always head straight to the gardens and fields first. The fruits and vegetables are ripe and I love picking them. Sometimes I still have to ask what's what in the garden, since I have never actually seen things like this growing from the ground before, where I am from the vegetables and fruit come in nice packages from the grocery store.

James' parents have figured me out. They know how much I enjoy picking things in the garden, so they have this nice arrangement. they plant things, and when they are too busy to pick them I always come out to harvest. I'll head back to the house with 5 gallon buckets full of strawberries and tomatoes, potatoes and peppers. We always get to keep part of my harvest and I get to experiment in the kitchen with the fresh produce.

Another great "tradition" is the annual blackberry harvest season. This is usually the hottest point in the summer, a few days after a heavy rain. The blackberries are ripe and plump and all around. The blackberry bushes cover acres and acres of their land, just sitting there for the picking. We'll take the four-wheelers up the hills and bring our coffee cans on string to hand around our necks while we pick.

Like I said, it is always the hottest of the summer days and before you eve start you are usually dripping in sweat. Since the blackberry bushes have prickles you have to wear jeans, too, or risk millions of little pricks in your legs. We'll pick for about 2 hours, usually, before we are exhausted and in too much pain to go on.

What you do is start on the outer edge of the brambles. Pick all of the big black and purple berries that you can see, then smush the plants around them down with your feet. You push your way deep into the tall bushes, picking as you go. You don't stop until your coffee can is filled up. As you are going you encounter all kinds of nastiness. The brambles scratch your arms and occasionally you will pick a berry right next to a thorn and prick your fingers. The insects swarm you and sting and bite. By the time you are finished your sweat is stinging all of the scratches and cuts all over your arms and hands. That's when you know it is time to head back to the house.

Berries getting a bath.

As soon as you get there you can wash the blood off of your arms and hands, as well as the berries. You stand back and admire the haul. We usually pull in about 3 gallons of berries between James, his dad and I, more if we bring a friend. Just keep in mind that the friend you bring probably wont want to ever come back.

Mmm... cobbler.

The berries go straight into a pan, with a mixture of flour, sugar, and butter over top and then straight into the oven. Within a half an hour we'll have an amazing blackberry cobbler, a la mode, of course. By the time you are eating the warm cobbler and sugary sweet berries over cold ice cream it is hard to remember the sweat and struggle you went through to bring them back. Every year we put ourselves through this harvest for a few cobblers, and every year I want to go out again for more.