Picking Wild Raspberries

I recently went raspberry picking, as I do every year. The plans for this year's harvest is to make wild berry jam with a good friend. Blueberries, blackberries and raspberries; all picked in the wild. Happily, this year I discovered two new areas to pick. As I was picking with only the sounds of nature around me, the sun's heat beating down upon me and the beautiful red bounty found on each bush, I was reminded of something I had written a few years ago.

Wild Raspberries

I go to my secret stash. Known to a few, picked only by me. A yearly ritual varying by days within the same two glorious weeks in August. Never knowing how bountiful or how many times I can enjoy the picking; is always a surprise. While some years are almost unbearable hot, with swarms of mosquitoes, some are cool and pleasant. The first gathering of this season fed the soul as well as the tongue.

It had rained for most of the day. Droplets of clean rainwater clung to the branches, leaves and berries like bright flawless diamonds. The berries were plentiful and ripe to falling into my outstretched hand. Listening to the wind lazily stir the trees and the incessant buzzing of desperately hungry mosquitoes. A gentle rain begins to fall. It’s tempo, music to my ears. Face up-turned, eyes close as the water caresses in softly falling drops. Dancing berries in the breeze catches my ear like the tinkle of bells singing sweetly. The stress of the day fades away as I sit in the arms of the wild raspberries.

Avie Layne 2012