Two mornings last week I picked raspberries at a local farm. I love raspberries and am grateful to have places where I can go pick fresh fruit near-by when in-season: raspberries, strawberries and blueberries. The berries look so pretty on the bushes and being out in the crisp morning air makes the chore of picking berries more like a fun outing. When I bring the fruit home I fill a bowl for eating, freeze some for winter, and make strawberry and raspberry jam.
We have some friends who grow raspberries on their property. A few years ago, very early in the fall season, frost was predicted one night so I went over to help harvest the produce from their large garden. My friend put me in the raspberry bushes and I started picking the fruit. A while later she joined me. We were talking and she started to pick where I had just picked and I wondered…I’ve picked berries many times over the years and I know what I’m doing and I thought I was doing a pretty good job…but come to find out she was picking the yellow raspberries they had growing intermingled with their red raspberry bushes! I passed the yellow berries thinking they were not ripe.
We laugh about it still.
