When Malcolm and I moved into our current house, we inherited many fruit trees, bushes, foliage, etc. (which I wrote about here and here). One of our latest bloomers, the blackberry bush, is finally coming to fruition. It’s had several red berries that look like raspberries until you get closer. As the summer is melting into autumn, these little guys are maturing and will be ready to pick very soon.

As I don’t often have too much patience (all my Capricorns out there know what I’m talking about?), I’ve already begun tasing them. They are bursting with sweetness but sour enough to cut the sweet. Simply put, these are the best blackberries I’ve ever had. It is deeply rewarding to grow our own food because we know exactly where it came from and exactly what pesticides were used on it (natural oils sprayed on the plants). The visceral experience of growing and harvesting your own food is the real daily delight for me. There’s something about the feeling of the plant sharply releasing the fruit into your hand. Even before I sample its tart, I can smell it as I raise it to take a bite. When the flesh gives a light pop of resistance under my teeth, I’m wonderfully delighted.

We’re still waiting on a crop of grapes, peaches, and apples along with the blackberries. The peaches are developing beautifully, so I’m sure I’ll write a post to extoll their virtues soon. My main goal for now is to not sample so much of the fruit that we don’t have any left when they’re at their peak ripeness. Wish this impatient lady luck!

What’s delighted you recently?

Kindly,

Maegan