Some of my most beloved childhood memories are of picking blackberries. In the Spring, the pesky sticker bushes became a little less of a nuisance when they were covered with the succulant and versatile berries. We would eat them canned, in cobblers, in pies, but mostly right of the vine.
Today, I took my kids and a few others to pick blackberries in a field not too far from home. At the end of the day, our "fun" had yielded us about 10 cups of these fat little berries, purple stained hands and faces, and barely menacing scratches on our ankles and fingers.
Tomorrow I will attempt to make jam. And then show my kids how I used eat it straight from the jar with a glass of milk.
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