berry season

Summer seems to be marked and measured, at least in part for me, by the passing of various berry seasons.  Strawberries, gooseberries, raspberries, blueberries, and finally blackberries.  Blackberries being picked the latest near the end of August along the dirt road by the cabin.  The each have their moment.  Their associated memories.  And new memories made each year.  Like the first time Hub and I went strawberry picking together.  Or when I discovered currants and gooseberries on our property.  Various trips hunting for wild blueberries (like the first time we took our brand new baby) and blueberry picking at a nearby farm in the country...this one we just did as a family on Saturday.  The morning was gorgeous, the light beautiful.  We picked the plentiful blueberries with ease and even little Bub got out of the stroller for awhile and began picking and eating too.

And just recently too, a favorite "berry memory" in the making has been afternoons spent picking wild raspberries around our yard with my little Bub.  I hold a tiny bowl, as there is only a handful ripe at a time each day.  My little boy follows closely behind me with baby steps that are getting surer every day.  I'm reminded then of a mama duck with her little ducklings following closely behind.  Every once in awhile he catches up and I grab onto one of his little hands and we walk together, my heart soaring, my mind memorizing this new milestone.  Being able to hold just one hand and walk together, side by side, now that he is more stable on his feet.  He babbles for the tiny red gems in my bowl as I pick them.  I give him one, still soft and warm from the sun.  He walks away from me just a step or two to enjoy it, and then just as quickly he toddles after me calling out "mmm, mummum, mmm, mammma, mmmum!"  Is he calling for more, for mama?  Probably for both as I hand him another and he rewards me with his sweet baby grin.  Pure delight to both of us.  Oh sweet summery, berry days...stay awhile!