In the hills of Southwestern Pennsylvania, one of the sweetest joys of summer is perennially the juicy ripeness of the blackberry. Luckily for me, my mom's got about one of the best blackberry patches in these parts. Every year, I anxiously await the arrival of this fruit. And when they are ready, you are on blackberry time. There's no waiting around a few days until you can find time in your schedule to mosey on out to the patch. You either pick them when they're ripe, or the entire harvest withers and goes to seed, browning from the bottom of the branch up. An over-ripe blackberry will make your mouth pucker like Minnie Pearl's.
|This, my friends, is just one little plant, mid-plucking, in an entire field of blackberry bushes. |
I thought I had died and gone to blackberry heaven.
|Proper blackberry picking attire includes a bandanna, old t-shirt and long sleeve|
that you don't mind snagging on said cranky plant, long pants, and sunglasses.
Tomorrow, more from Nana's farm, this time in the garden. ~Alice (aka jess)