wild berries

 Here on PEI, it has been an exceptionally dry summer.  We have received only 20 percent of the normal rainfall, and things are parched.  The lawn is crispy, my raspberries dried up much earlier than usual, and I am sick of lugging a hose around trying to keep my plants alive.

Yesterday I took a bike ride along the Confederation Trail.  It's a 180-km former rail line that spans almost the entire Island, through fields and woodlands.  This time of year, wild blackberries are everywhere along the trail.  I pack containers into my bike basket, and usually pick at least 8 cups of berries.  Those wily blackberries make me work for their fruit.  Wicked thorns and prickles snag my skin, and they are most abundant on the edges of steep banks.  But the fruit is so rich and tasty, I pick them anyways.

This year, because it has been so dry, it was really hard to find any berries at all.  I had almost given up, when one rich vein made the long ride worth it.

The best berries are clustered around a memorial to Gordie Constable, who died at the site in 2001 as a result of a snow mobile accident.  I met him once - he fixed my car.  I never fail to say hi and thank him for the berries when I pass his memorial.

I braved the thorns and the steep banks to pick about a cup of berries.  They tasted all the sweeter for the effort it took to get them.