I stopped by the grocery store this morning and discovered that they were selling blackberries . . . at almost four bucks a pint.  I couldn’t believe the price of a fruit that used to be so readily available to me in the summer.  I remember spending the warm, summer days of my childhood carrying a paper bag and gathering the wildly-growing fruit.  Of course, the fruit would have filled the bag more quickly if I hadn’t eaten two for every one that I collected.


My grandmother would take the berries that we had picked and make cobbler out of them.  I loved blackberry cobbler.  Just thinking about it makes me long for all of the things that I remember so fondly from my childhood-homemade pickles, wild strawberries, my maternal grandmother’s chocolate roll (she’s in her late eighties and bed-ridden now)-so many things that the children of the current generation won’t have.


It kind of makes me wonder what my daughter is going to long for when she’s my age.


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