On Tue, 03 Jul 2007 04:46:14 GMT, Cindy Fuller
> wrote:

>In article >,
> Kate Connally > wrote:
>
>> The black raspberries are in so I drove out to Schramm's
>> Farm Market and got a pint. (If I could have afforded it I
>> would have bought all they had!) Anyway, I got some heavy
>> cream on the way home and for dessert last night I had a
>> giant bowl of berries with sugar and cream. Yum!
>>
>That reminds me of home. During the summers I'd pick wild raspberries
>of all colors and blackberries on my grandfather's farm. My trusty
>part-Labrador retriever Lucy would accompany me, as would my mother's
>basset hound Clementine and my 20-pound black cat Shamus. Lucy learned
>how to pick ripe berries off the canes. Clem couldn't be choosy (being
>so low to the ground). Shamus didn't care for berries. He came along
>to keep the dogs in line. Lucy and Clem also enjoyed sweet corn. Lucy
>would pick her own ear off the stalk. Clem, again due to her stature
>deficit, would just uproot the whole stalk.
>
>Cindy, in a semi-nostalgic mood

Nice story, Cindy. As a kid I'd pick wild blackberries and dewberries
out by the bayou near my grandparents' house in Louisiana. My friend
and I would take pots from my grandmother's kitched and a pocketfull
of rocks with us. The pots were for the beries. The rocks for the
snakes. I was in heaven. Wild berries are a gift.

My grandmother (her name was Nanaw, by the way) would make me a
cobbler with the berries anytime I asked. Man, was I spoiled.
--

modom

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