It’s A Blackberry Race

by Curt Kovener curt-line.jpg

It had been nearly four weeks since the grass was mowed up in the wilderness and with a weekend forecast of rain, I left Friday intent on reclaiming the grassy areas for civilization.

The going was slow and a baler may have been a better choice.

But the task was completed in time to grab a bucket to seek out the latest ripe blackberries before sunset.

The berries destined for wine were heavy and thick and fairly accessible. I learned, though, that blackberries should not be picked in shorts. It does not make for a pretty sight the next day.

Charley our yellow lab has free run of the property when we are in the wilderness offering occasional liquid fertilizer to the flora and he accompanied us on the blackberry expedition.

While we worked to fill the bucket he snooped in the woods, in the creek, and made his way back to snooping near us. But we didn’t realize for what he was snooping until we heard the sound akin to hogs dining at a trough.

Charley was snooping alright. He would work his way into the blackberry briars and begin helping himself to the low hanging fruit. While I am filling my bucket he is filling his belly.

I guess his lips and tongue can withstand the pointed pain of the prickly stickers when there is food involved.

So now in addition to trying to beat the woodland critters to the ripe wild berries, I have to combat my own dog.