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Early one morning, at the tail end of July, Lee Trott and I went berry picking at Muskrat Haven Farm on Route 211 near Amissville. We had been there before to pick strawberries and raspberries.
This time we were after blackberries. They were there all right, big and bold, though only a few ripe ones glinted dully among the clusters of bright red fruit, the thornless tangles were higher than my head. Interesting notion: blackberries are red when they are green.
Lee Trott picked down one row; I worked on another. She is a much more careful — I could even say studied-picker than I am for she stays in one place and pulls the ripe fruit from the plants meticulously. Her work method is precise; she washes dishes the same way. Her needlework reflects the same care with detail. In her container there was nothing but fully ripe blackberries.
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