There is something about berry picking, , the peaceful repetitive pace, being out in nature, the primal survival urge that dictates getting ready for winter or is it the love of berry pie, could even be all of the above. Oops! can't forget jams and jellies, jams and jellies are very important.
And there I stand with my pail, in the hot sun, surrounded by blackberry bushes, with canes that could be used for barbed wire, as various flying insects buzz past and even around my head, the long sleeves that are meant to protect me are constantly snagged on the huge thorns, and sweat trickling down my face; but yet I carry on picking and complaining. And every now and then pause to look up at the patterns in the clouds, or feel the cooling breeze on my face. The gentle sounds of birds singing only a few notes across the late afternoon air. Being all alone, planted, like the blackberry canes, for awhile anyway in my own world.
Because large creatures, called bears also want berries it is a good idea to stay aware of your surroundings. Bears are not at all good at sharing and have short tempers probably because they crave something sweet, I made that fact up. These frequent glances around let me know that I am truly in that "place just right" which nourishes and sooths my ragged soul, and promises me that tiny bit of summer, in the form of blackberry jam, on my morning toast as I watch the January snow pile up and the temperature plummets.
