Beautiful Blackberries
One of our favorite late-summer traditions: blackberry picking!
Summer is definitely not my favorite season. Unless I have an immediate means to cool down, be it water to bathe in or air conditioning to hide in, I am absolutely miserable in the heat. Too hot, I become hypersensitive, irritable, and emotionally aggressive. Just a true delight to be around. And it just so happens that where I live, in northern California, summers are long, hot, and dry. But aside from the heat, there are so many things I do love about this time of year. I love the break from our commute and our more relaxed mornings. I love spontaneous trips to the beach or the woods. I love the long days spent with friends and the cool, moonlit evenings in the garden. I love the summertime abundance of local produce. And the one thing I love most, that I look forward to all summer long, is blackberry picking.
I remember going blackberry picking with my mom and our friends when I was a little girl. The town I grew up in had a regional park with enormous bushes and we would trek deep into the park, arms loaded with baskets and containers, to forage for perfectly sun-ripened berries to our hearts’ content. An army of honey bees tussled the skirts of the faded-pink blackberry blossoms, as we carefully maneuvered our bodies around thorned tentacles until we found a good place to stop and pick. We would emerge from the woods later, inevitably covered in battle wounds, but with armloads of berries to show for it. I would always swear to myself that “next time,” I would dress more appropriately or at least bring garden clippers, but many years have gone by now and I have yet to remember either one.
This summer as been divinely mild. There were a few days over 100˚F, but so far, they have not lasted more than 24 hours. We even had a little rain the other day! Not enough to make a noticeable difference anywhere other than my garden, but it meant I got to skip a day of watering, which is nice. And the combined factors of my three children finally all being old enough to be vaccinated against COVID and being old enough to trust not to run headfirst off a cliff or into the Pacific Ocean, made this summer our best in a while. We spent almost every day outside or with friends.
Sometime in mid-July, Alako and I decided it was time to check out our favorite spot to pick blackberries, just to see if any berries were ripe yet. They were not, so we waited. Then, last Friday, we tried again and this time we were pleasantly surprised. We got to the park a little later than we intended to, as it is much more pleasant to pick berries when there is some cloud cover, but it was still relatively cool outside and the sun was not yet high enough to be overly intense. We stomped across Troll Bridge #1, only lingering to gaze wistfully at the enormous berries hanging from spiky tendrils stretching like sentient green fingers high out of reach. You cannot linger long in case the troll comes, of course. We took a moment or two to check out what was left of the creek, heavily embroidered in fluorescent green algae. We greeted a number of dogs and the humans they were taking on a walk. We clopped (uneventfully, thank goodness!) across Troll Bridge #2, chose the shadier path to the right when we reached the fork in the road, and there before us, all along the path, was an enormous hedge of ripe berries.
I love everything about blackberries. The blossoms are one of my favorite colors and I love that the center of the flower becomes a tiny green berry. I love how they ripen in a cluster, biggest, juiciest berry at the tip and I love when you find an entire branch of ripe berries hidden like an optical illusion behind the tangle of spike vines and leaves. I love blackberry-flavored anything, although it’s rare to find. I find berry picking so meditative that I could do it for hours. And I’m pretty sure Alako would too, but clearly my other two children do not feel the same way, as first Ailey, then Gryffin started to whine. At first, we were able to distract them by heading down a new path and allowing them to run ahead while we picked more berries but eventually everyone got too hot and demanded we return to the car. We had picked for about an hour and harvested six cups of berries. Not too shabby!
We brought them home, washed and dried them, and put them into freezer bags two cups at a time. Most recipes call for 1-2 cups of berries so storing them that way makes it easier for me to use them on the fly. I’m glad I did, because it took me until today to finally use them for the first time. Ailey helped me make blackberry oatmeal muffins with crumble topping and they are SO good! I just have to figure out how to avoid eating all of them… SEE RECIPE BELOW 😊
https://simplybeautifuleating.com/2019/01/17/blackberry-cinnamon-swirl-oatmeal-muffins/