My sister Karen made my summer today. She brought me some fresh wild blackberries.



We lived on 4 acres outside a small town in west central Oregon until I was 9. Our aunts, uncles, and cousins lived on the same slope, and we spent a lot of time playing with our cousins outdoors. What I remember most are playing in the playhouse my dad built, making necklaces out of buttercups, and picking wild strawberries and blackberries.

For some reason I especially love blackberries. I don't even like seeds in anything, and I still love blackberries! (But not raspberries.) I love to eat them as I pick them, and I love blackberry jam, pie, sauce. cobbler, milkshakes, anything.

I was surprised, as an adult, to learn that blackberries are considered pests in Oregon and that people kill them. Or try to.

I don't get back to Oregon very often, and unfortunately I never seem to be there when the blackberries are ripe. When we were there at the first of July this summer, we saw blossoms and green berries everywhere. Very frustrating. I've planted them here, but they never produce more than a handful of berries each summer. They mostly just sprawl all over and create a lot of work for me. I even tried buying frozen blackberries at Trader Joe's, but I noticed after I got home they were grown in Chile.

They grow wild near my sister's home east of Sacramento, and every summer I hear tales of her hauls. I've only made it over there once to share; it's just hard to get over there at the right time. But she came to Reno today and thought to pick some berries for me first. Now I have the delicious problem of deciding exactly how to eat them.One thing I'm sure of is I'll be enjoying them while they're fresh!