Blackberry season is upon us again here in the Pacific Northwest, which is a season I have looked forward to every year since I was a young girl. Some of my fondest memories of summers as a child were spent under the scorching sun as I carefully reached my tiny hands into overgrown thorn bushes to reach for the ripest, juiciest berries I could find. caught my limited opportunity. Although my childhood berry-picking excursions usually ended with purple-stained clothes, deep red drips on my hands and arms from the crushed berries, and a sunburn, the feeling of walking home with buckets upon buckets of fresh berries always made every trip worth the trouble.
