When I was in high school I lived in Vancouver, BC. I lived about 2 miles from school and I got a ride to school every morning but I had to walk home. Once I got off the sidewalk on Kerr and began the walk along Marine Drive I entered blackberry country. In the fall was when they were ripe and I would eat my way along the last 1/2 mile or so home. Years later when we lived in Grass Valley , specifically at Wolf Mountain, there were so many blackberry bushes, just like home. There was even an area called Blackberry Pass. Our house was in a different, drier part of camp and we didn't have blackberries there.
Now, here in Sonoma county, I have my own personal blackberry patch. It's huge and has the biggest and best blackberries ever! The thing is, though... I don't really like blackberries! Maybe those years of blackberry picking in high school burned me out, I dunno. I'll go out a and pick a few handfuls every so often and even make a cobbler or crisp but I don't like them in pancakes or jam or jelly. So I don't pick buckets and freeze them and I curse at them for taking over EVERYTHING more than I really enjoy their fruit. They are nice photography subjects though and I do claim bragging rights for the best berries on camp. They gotta be good for SOMETHING, right?
|Green fruit before ripening. I love their brown fuzzy skirts.|
|A bit fuzzy. Sorry.|