roadside berry bliss

while she was at camp the other day, papa and I picked seven pounds of blackberries along the side of the road.  it was hilly.  and thorny.  buggy.  and a bit poison ivy-y.  and a whole lot of good, too.

when papa and Claire were out walking the farm school dog to the creek, I mashed 8 cups of them into jam while listening to Rising Appalachia.  mash, stir, heat, pour.

one of the jars exploded- oh those tattler lids.  I like the idea of them, but I think I'm going back to the regular old metal lids.  there's something about hearing that satisfying 'pop'! after taking them out of the water bath.  and the weck jars- I have trouble telling if those little rubber tabs are pointed down enough.  they all seem sealed, but that little pop is always my proof that all is well.

a couple days later I went back and picked by myself.  it was drizzling and I wasn't dressed appropriately for brambly hillside berry picking.  short sleeves and chacos.  but still.  the train went by and it was pleasant, hearing it while I picked in the rain.  I paused and thought "I'll remember this summer moment".  I came away with another five pounds.  not too shabby.

in the last week there have been a gallon of berries frozen, many eaten by the handful or mixed in with yogurt, two peach/blackberry crisps baked, and a rather large and rather tasty jar of blackberry sangria mixed together for a little gathering we had on the fourth to say farewell to a dear friend who will be away for several weeks.  turns out there are worse things to have leftovers of than blackberry sangria.  I may have brought a couple little half pint jars out to a friend's place today for us to enjoy after Claire's riding lesson.

ah, summer.  delicious.