The other weekend, while taking a little family walk along the river, we came upon some blackberry bushes just bursting with ripe fruit. Now, I am the cautious type and would never start eating wild berries when I know I can buy them in a store and I know, for a fact, that they are blackberries and not just something that looks exactly the same. My husband, on the other hand, grew up picking wild blackberries in the Sacramento area and has fond memories eating them in the parks when he was little. Not surprisingly, he immediately started popping them in his mouth.
MMMMmm, Mama, you need to try these. They are perfect!
Being my husband, he won’t stop until I have my fill of berries, so I give in. Besides, I figure he isn’t trying to kill us all, so we should be ok. He was right, they were at peak ripeness and much better than any blackberry I have ever purchased from the market. I don’t think anyone enjoyed these little juicy clusters of warm sweetness more than Octavian, however. He was insatiable.
The rest of the afternoon we spent enjoying one of the cooler days we had seen all summer. Octavian continued to eat as many blackberries as possible and I happily observed as he stomped through the tall, dry grass, practice his jumping skills (while saying dump, dump, dump), and run back to his daddy begging for more sweet fruit. I even got some kisses from my sweet little one.
Days like this are the best.