With every season comes anticipation of various activities. Rest assured, I spend my fair share of time fishing small rivers and enjoy flipping rocks in search of that perfect snake photo.
Another activity has become somewhat of a tradition: my annual blackberry-picking excursion with friends Barry Spivey and Hugh Demby.
Hugh and I are fortunate that Barry is a connoisseur of black berries. He keeps his finger on the pulse of brambles throughout a three-county area, knowing where and when to hit the woods with buckets in hand.
I recently headed to Mount Ida, there picking up Hugh before rendezvousing with our berry-picking friend at one of his secret spots in Montgomery County. Arriving long after the sun topped the horizon, we donned long-sleeve shirts, sprayed our boots and clothes with bug spray and began a short trek through an area abounding with colonies of blackberry plants.
Bailing off into the first thicket, I marveled at the numbers of berries dangling from the plants. The scrumptious fruits appeared smaller than during last summer, but enough were there to meet our needs of a few jars of jelly and possibly a cobbler or two.
I eased my hands into the maze of briars and began plucking the fruit with my thumb and index finger. Although making headway, Hugh and I notoriously make a friendly competition out of just about everything we do. So, I strapped a belt around the pail's handle, draped it around my neck and gathered with both hands.
While putting berries in the bucket, I noticed that a few critters had helped themselves to the berries. Bears also appear to savor the taste of these delectable morsels, and I noticed that one had hollowed a huge spot among the thick stand of bushes.
Hugh and I remained within hollering distance, if for no other reason than to compare bounties of our labors. Judging from the conversation, my plants were more bountiful, but when we headed to the next patch it became evident we had a comparable amount.
We gathered a few berries from small stands en route to the next thicket. The sun was already growing high in the sky and the rising temperature would soon sway us to call it a day.
We waded among the brambles upon reaching another thicket and pulled the ripened fruit. The hollow sound of berries dropping into an empty bucket make a distinctive sound. But by this time our pails were filled near the halfway point.
These particular berries were even smaller than the ones we located earlier in the day, but that was no indication they lacked in taste. I had gone without eating any of the fruit while browsing through the first patch. But as the day progressed I finally broke down and flicked a berry in my mouth. The sweet taste demanded that I try another. And before long, I was feasting on this wild table fare.
Eventually working our way through the entire thicket, we called it a day, the sun having grown too intense to enjoy. I suppose we could have replenished our systems with water and returned to the brambles, but we had harvested enough to meet our needs. More importantly, we continued an annual tradition of fellowship while gathering wild bounties in the seclusion of the forest.
Sports on 07/27/2014