Berry picking is to childhood as drinking mother's milk is to infancy. If only you could do it year-round. E has been fortunate enough to have berry bushes growing in his backyard since he was on solid foods, since he was old enough to toddle on his own two legs and navigate the thorny parts. When the Js lived on Prior, he picked strawberries as small and sweet as his thumbs. Since their move to Sidney, E has become a master raspberry collector. The birds can't compete with his nimble fingers and the berries rarely make it back to the house. This time of year they melt right on the tongue.
Soon there will be blueberries and, within a month, the blackberries will be calling. Those that aren't eaten off the bush will be put in pots and boiled into jam. You might even see a homemade jar under your tree this Christmas. When you pop the lid and lick your fingers, visions of summertime will dance in your heads. And for those of you who live too far for the Js to share their berry bounty, perhaps this will be incentive for you to book a flight and pay a visit.
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