On our ritual morning walk around the ponds Owen and I pass bushes and bushes of still-red blackberries. They've been tempting us in their perfect, but unripe form for weeks now.
Yesterday we found a few bushes with deep black, heavy berries - just barely ready to pick.
I resisted the urge to eat them on the spot and popped a couple in the stroller cupholder - you never know what kinds of chemicals these communities use to make the grass so perfect.
We had them as a treat after lunch. I think we'll have to find more tomorrow.
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