For weeks now, when Lady and I walk, I check the ripeness of the blackberries in my favorite patch near home.
Today there are enough sweet ones for the first pick.
I have an unofficial berry picking uniform that I wear since blackberries can scratch one up easily.
- long sleeve shirt
- jeans
- shoes & socks
- hat
Even still I know I’ll come home with hands covered in scratches and probably an itchy rash.
It’s a classic NW morning…the air smells fresh and clean. I feel the cool moist air on my face. Washed by a gentle drizzle the berries are beautiful. While I fill up the bucket, Lady finds a spot that is partially protected and patiently waits. We’re both more than damp when we walk in the back door about an hour later.
Morning snooze is next on her agenda; pie making on mine.
This pie is part of a trade with my house painter, Ron, for some touchup work. I get to work and turn out a blackberry pie with a pretty lattice crust. Later in the afternoon, Ron arrives to pick it up. He looks pretty happy to have a whole pie to take home for dinner.
I ask him what else is on the menu.
He says, “First course is pie. Not sure if we need anything else!”