Wednesday, August 27, 2008

Like a kid in a candy store

I remember back in the day, back when I lived in Other Places, I'd walk into a grocery store and see these tiny little plastic containers with, say, 10 blackberries in them, for $3.99. I'd be tempted, because I love blackberries. But, that's not exactly true. I was never tempted, because it would be ludicrous to pay $3.99 for packaged blackberries.

These days, the path I walk to work and home again is a veritable smorgasbord of berries. The blue huckleberries are coming in, a few thimbleberries remain, but the blackberries. . .aah, the blackberries. Hanging in clumps for me to pick, like so many grapes hung over the emperor's cot by the court virgins. I pick one, I turn, there are twenty more! I bite into another, that delectable sweetness bursting forth between my teeth and rushing down my palette, surging a flood of delight and rapture as it flows down my throat. But another step and there are more, and more, and more! And I think, in my euphoria, of the coming days of blackberry jam, blackberry pancakes with blackberry syrup, blackberry cobbler and blackberry ice cream. And, best of all, the sun-warmed blackberry, freshly picked, staining my fingers, popping between my lips and onto my tongue. The kiss of summer.

Oh yes. These are the days I know I live in the most perfect place. The blackberries have spoken once again.

1 comment:

Kirsten said...

Yes. We go over to a friends house for dinner and they bring out the small plastic container and act like it's a treasure that they are sharing with us. And then we bite into these anemic blackberries that you buy at the store in Saskatchewan ... and they are so please ... and we are so disapointed. Good post.