After the rains and the weeks of endless heat baking the earth, comes the time for berrying. Not the cultivated berries like blue and strawberry, with the loading up of the van and buckets and bowls, but the kind where you throw on a sturdy pair of shoes with a sole thick enough that briars can't pierce them and even though it is ninety, you pull on jeans and your husband's long sleeved cotton dress shirt for protection.
Blackberries. Mouth dripping with tart juice berries, the bigger - the sweeter.
Wish you could all come berrying in the fields with us.