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I was just going to go out behind the barn and check the blackberry bushes. For a minute. I felt silly even bothering to bring a bucket. There didn’t seem to be that many berries left. I thought I’d wander around a bit. Then. Wow. There were more than I thought. It was almost worth bringing the bucket, after all. I started picking. Might as well at least get the easy ones.
Then there are always those berries that are just out of reach. The ones you’d never go get because it would mean too many scratches. But…. Next thing you know, I’m climbing inside a blackberry bush. And I can’t stop. I think about snakes, but I’m fearless in the face of ripe berries. I can’t stop. And it’s getting dark. Who cares? I can’t stop. If I let night fall without getting these berries, some ANIMAL will get them and I can’t let that happen. I MUST HAVE THEM. My hair, my wild hair, caught and tangled in briars and I don’t care. I can’t stop. I’m just ripping it out of my scalp climbing through bushes. Who needs hair? There are berries to be had!!
And I lose my shoe. In the middle of a blackberry bush I was climbing through to get around to the other side of the bush–because, of course, I could just barely in the dark see more berries over there. And you know they were the best ones ever–the hardest ones to get always are. Must. Have. Them. Who needs shoes?
And then it starts raining.
I found my shoe, in the middle of the briars, and went running.
And what did all this blackberry fever get me? One and one-third cups of blackberries.
Okay, I’m gonna have to try again tomorrow so I can have enough by this weekend to bake something. I could see there were more ready to ripen up soon. I’ll just go look. For a minute….. After I pick off this tick.
Posted by Suzanne McMinn on July 31, 2007
"It was a cold wintry day when I brought my children to live in rural West Virginia. The farmhouse was one hundred years old, there was already snow on the ground, and the heat was sparse-—as was the insulation. The floors weren’t even, either. My then-twelve-year-old son walked in the door and said, “You’ve brought us to this slanted little house to die." Keep reading our story....
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November 2009
"First it's glowing, then it's snowing! A pause, then screaming squalls and williwaws. Bright but bitter, then a thaw. Yet again it's cold and storming: What ever happened to global warming?"
Friday, Nov 20
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Entire Contents © Copyright 2004-2009 SuzanneMcMinn.com. Text and photographs may not be published, broadcast, redistributed or aggregated without express permission. Thank you.
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-Kim
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LeAnne
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Thanks for the chuckle.
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Good luck for the next time!
Have a wonderful day!
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Cole
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