The Raspberry Patch

We scurried off to the raspberry patch with pails in hand and a spring in our step. It was that time of year when those prickly plants with the slightly fuzzy leaves burst forth with the most delicious small, plump, red, juicy, berries. It wasn't just a patch of berries. It was a field of berries. Row after row of neatly planted red berry bushes or vines. Some people call them berry vines because the plants are usually supported by  trellises making them look like vines. My grandma planted those berries. I don't know who helped her plant all those berry bushes or how long it took to produce that delicious fruit. I do know my grandma put a lot of  hard work into maintaining that raspberry crop. I also know that when you're a child picking berries and filling up that small tin pail as well as eating almost as many as you put in the pail, is one of the best childhood experiences ever.

So off we went to pick berries, my big sister,  my brother, and myself with grandma leading the way. She always wore a dress, a homemade bib apron tied in the back  in a big bow, and wide heeled black shoes, scuffed, and worn over on the sides. Her light golden-yellow hair was pulled back in a bun with combs at the sides to hold it tightly in place.  She packed a hoe over her shoulder and extra containers for the berries. With clever looking blue eyes shining through her glasses she gave us plenty of warning to be on the lookout  for snakes which might be lurking in the berry patch. She often made humorous, witty remarks or made up little rhyming verses so I wasn't sure if this snake warning was real or not, nevertheless I kept a close eye out for anything slithering on the ground.

Once we got to the field we went about filling our pails with the ripe, red, berries as well as eating about as many as we picked. The sweat bees could be most pesky on a hot summer day, stinging me on the legs when I tried to swat them away. My brother was alone picking berries clear down at the end of the row when all of a sudden he started yelling. "It's a snake in the weeds! I think it went up my pant leg!" We watched from a far as he wildly shook his legs and danced up and down like a lunatic.

Calmly my grandma went to his rescue with the hoe in her hand. She raked the hoe through the weeds and checked out the situation with no sign of a snake being in sight. My brother often kept us entertained if not with his boyish antics then with his constant questions and teasing. My grandma often said he should become a lawyer because he was always asking questions or committing impromptu, mischievous, and laughable pranks.

And so we filled our containers with red, ripe, berries and went back to the house to get cooled off with drinks of iced tea or Kool aid.