It would seem we've arrived in our new stomping grounds at an opportune time.
Lookie here:
It is that time of year. The local jewels are thickly clustered, almost dripping from the vines.
Velvet-skinned.
Taut with juice.
Warm in the sun.
Heady, heavy fragrance.
Muted plop into my bucket.
I am a two-fisted picker.
My new neighbor has shared the precious location of her favorite berry patch. Not that I had to swear a blood oath of secrecy or sign over the Sallie-Cat or anything...
But I am going back for more tomorrow.
3 comments:
Aww man! I've been telling N8tr0n for like TWO MONTHS that I wish I were in Washington at a U-pick berry farm. Now you're just rubbing your Portland berries in my face.
I forgive you.
Nat will die of jealousy. I guess will just stick with purchasing our at Sam's.
I am jealous and picturing the one line of prose you forgot, "Juice dripping off my happy face."
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