One of my earliest memories is being dressed in long sleeves and pants and taken to the side of a country road to pick wild raspberries with my Grandma Millie, my mom, and my siblings. We were supposed to collect them in a bucket, but I just wanted to eat them up as I pulled them from the bushes. Who can wait until you get home when there are so many delicious berries, just waiting to be gobbled up?

Earlier this year, I wrote about living in the last house where my Grandma Millie and Grandpa Joe lived. Grandma Millie died here, surrounded by family, and Grandpa Joe lived here until he moved into a nursing home a little more than a year before he died. We have been here for almost a year now, and I love it so much. We have a beautiful backyard where we can watch the deer at dusk, our living room is spacious and open, I have a small office space in our storage room, my mom next door has a pool where Ruthie is learning to swim, and Mom has been such a help to Chalupa and em during what has been a difficult summer in terms of health.

This summer, we are experiencing one of the benefits I hadn’t even thought about when we moved in here: fresh raspberries.

Years ago, when I was still a kid and this house belonged to the couple who lived here before my grandparents did, there were wild raspberry bushes all over this property and ours next door. A lot of those bushes are gone now, but there are still several growing wild by our barn. They require no upkeep or attention, and now that it’s summer, I get to go out there every few days and pick a few handfuls of fresh berries.

raspberry collage

We have been eating them plain, but I’m wondering if I could get enough to do what Grandma used to do: make a cobbler or pie out of them. I just have to get out there right as they turn ripe, because if you wait, they get picked over by birds.

Perhaps one of Ruthie’s earliest memories will be of picking raspberries from our backyard bushes. I like to think so.

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