Here it is, the beginning of August in the Pacific Northwest. I won't rub in how wonderful the weather is here in the summer (mainly because it got up to 100 degrees last week & I don't want to jinx the temperature now), but it is a lovely place to be.
One of the things that I would never have known about before moving here is that blackberries are weeds. Blackberry bushes are these looming, toothy plants that grow particularly well wherever people have tried to cut back the woods. They are the botanical equivalents of dragons. I walked by one blackberry plant yesterday that must have been about 10 feet tall with tentacles (yes, I am mixing my metaphors here, but they really are tentacular) as big around as my middle finger, maybe bigger. They are spectacular specimens.
Every year, around this time, the green berries on the bushes start to ripen and turn that black-purple that means they will be ready to eat soon. My son looks forward to this time of year because he is part bear, and frankly, so do I. When the blackberries ripen depends on the weather, and with as hot and dry as it has been this year, they are ripening earlier; in years where it is rainy and cool, we would have to wait a bit from now.
During the blackberry days of August, walks around the neighborhood don't happen as quickly as at other times of year. Every few feet or so, people stop and examine the blackberry bushes for berries that are ready for snacking and frequently find some. The process of extracting the berries is tricky work. Remember those dragons with tentacles? They are very protective of their treasure. They will try to bite you, guaranteed. It becomes a sort of dance, the reach to work around the thorns. Some of the berries are too high to reach --most of them, if we are to be honest. They dangle up above, tempting in their purpleness, but it must be some kind of anglerfish-like ploy (yes, mixing metaphors again --perhaps a blackberry bush is more chimera than dragon?), and the bush only wants to eat those brave or stupid enough to try. Every year, I tell myself I will come back at night with a ladder and gloves, but I never do. Some years, I do remember to bring a bag. They are better straight off the bush, though, when they plop into your hand because they are too fat and juicy to hang on anymore.
There are blackberries in the frozen food section of most supermarkets that are available year round, but there is something we lose when we live in a world where everything is available on demand. Easy availability makes them commonplace, when they're not commonplace at all. Blackberries are special. Even the blackberries that are picked and eaten when they're not quite ripe enough in August taste better than the berries from the bag in January.
What are those special things you have to wait for?