Monday, July 27, 2020

Berry Picking




Beside Hyatt-Mill Creek,
clumps of blackberries
tantalize the taste buds.
Sampling the offering,

sweet juice stains my hands,
berries plop into the bucket.
Watch for poison ivy,
briers snag the long sleeves,

chiggers nip the skin.
Thunderheads roar over
the Shewbird Mountain,
sister and rush home.

The aroma of berry cobbler
baking in the wood stove,
we crank the ice-cream handle:
a magical moment.
                     --Brenda Kay Ledford




7 comments:

lil red hen said...

Oh my!! What a remembrance this brings to me!! Nothing better than fresh, wild blackberries, even with wasps, chiggers, June bugs and scratches from thorns. I've just made blackberry jam with tame berries and although it's good, the wild berries weren't as large but neither did they have the big seeds. It's so good to read things related to my upbringing; thanks!

Betsy Banks Adams said...

Oh how I love the fresh berries this time of year... We used to hike to a place nearby where there were blackberry bushes all along the way.... We always brought home a bunch..... SO good...

Great poem.. Hope you are well. How is your Mom?

Have a great week.
Hugs,
Betsy

Ruth Hiebert said...

A piece of that cobbler with homemade ice-cream would be just perfect.

Laurel Wood said...

Brenda, This is a precious poem that brings back sweet memories of blackberry picking with grandmother. Hugs to you! Mildred

Karen said...

BRINGS BACK GREAT MEMORIES, THANK YOU

Elaine/Muddling Through said...

Looks delicious! My sister and I used to be taken blackberry picking at our grandparents' farm. It was glorious. We were covered in purple juice. Probably not many of those berries made it home with us! Thank you for that wonderful reminder!

Beside a babbling brook... said...

Thank you for your comment on my blog.

Oh my, how delicious!!!!

I could certainly be tempted. ~smile~

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