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.