July 4th

Happy 4th

Fifty years ago, July 4th 1963, my father took my brother and me out to the family farm to pick blackberries, wild blackberries, thorns and all. Our family had just moved back to North Carolina. I was 10, Charlie 9. Sisters stayed home; too young. We were instructed to make plenty of noise to scare off bears and snakes. Oh yeah, we were out in the woods. Charlie and I were good at the noise part. Turns out we were good at picking blackberries too. It was really special to spend time with just my father, no babies and no Betty.  I'm sure a pie was made with those berries because Daddy loved all baked sweets. This year, as if in celebration of a half century of blackberry love, our domesticated, thornless berries are plump and ripening this week. I stood in the backyard this morning and ate my fill transported back to that magical family time. How sweet it was.