Today was the farmer’s market and I found something I absolutely adore – a pint of blackberries picked just this morning. I got the LAST one. I’ve just finished a small bowl of them, but saved some for tomorrow. I did hate to put them in the fridge, but did. I couldn’t believe my luck at grabbing the last pint of them.
Blackberries are my very, very, very favorite fruit. I have always loved them and have many happy associations with them.
For many years I went to Kentucky at the end of June for a family reunion. Blackberries start ripening right around that time. My mom would pick the ripe ones from her vines and have them for me as a treat. It was one of those special things a mother does for her child. And this child appreciated it.
The last time I had freshly picked blackberries they were brought to me by a man I was deeply in love with. He arrived on my doorstep with a pint of blackberries he had driven to a farm (40 miles out of his way) to pick up before coming to see me. That ranks as one of the most romantic gestures I’ve ever experienced personally. I had just mentioned once that I loved blackberries and he brought some for no reason. Ironically, today is his birthday, so it’s interesting that I saw fresh blackberries at the farmer’s market for the first time ever today.
I think this is what men don’t understand about women – it’s not a new car that gets to us, it’s you leaving a note in our old car telling us you care. It seems so simple to us. But, I’ve had two different men in the last three days ask me to explain women. I guess that’s the best explanation I can offer.
I’ve had a very “blackberry” kind of day. I started the day by making Blackberry Tea Cookies for our upcoming tea. I hadn’t tried the recipe before and wanted to test it before making it for the tea on August 11.
Well, I’m headed off to bed shortly. I’ll probably dream of blackberries, or men bearing blackberries, or something of that sort.