BLACKBERRY bushes near my home |
A couple of weeks ago we talked about Dogwood Winter. Today, I'm going to talk to you about BLACKBERRY WINTER. Most Appalachians know the significance of BLACKBERRY WINTER. We were told it was the last big cold spell before the weather turned warm. For me, down here in Atlanta, it means before the weather turns downright HOT!
A clear indication that BLACKBERRY WINTER has come and gone is the blooming of BLACKBERRY bushes everywhere.
Here in Atlanta, our BLACKBERRY bushes are in full bloom. It's exciting to drive down the road and see those lovely white blooms everywhere. I hope I can remember where I'm seeing them now so I can go back to visit them when they are ripe.
Back home in Kentucky, BLACKBERRY WINTER hasn't arrived yet. Atlanta is about two weeks ahead. So, all my Kentucky friends, hang on. BLACKBERRY WINTER and then the warmer weather are coming soon.
BLACKBERRY blooms |
The beginnings of a BLACKBERRY |
The maturing of a BLACKBERRY |
When I was young, my dad and I went BLACKBERRY pickin' on Pine Mountain. I'm not sure why he insisted upon going up on the mountain to pick them. They were growing down where we lived, too. Perhaps it was because that's where he grew up and he knew very few people would venture up to the mountain to hunt them. Then again, maybe he thought those BLACKBERRIES were superior to the ones further down the mountain. I don't know.
I do know, however, that picking BLACKBERRIES in the mountains is an adventure. You have to climb up to some inhospitable areas to reach the bushes. Not only that, you have to watch out for other creatures in the mountain who think BLACKBERRIES are a delicacy, too. Like bears and snakes.
I remember one time particularly when we climbed up a limestone cliff (limestone is a bit unstable) to get to a patch of fabulous black, juicy BLACKBERRIES. I was only about four years old at the time. Coming back down with my pail filled with BLACKBERRIES, I hit a loose pile of stones and slid the rest of the way down the hill on my rear end, bouncing on every jagged edge of every rock. Those rocks dug into my tender four-year-old flesh and dug out chunks. I struggled valiantly to hang onto my bucket of BLACKBERRIES, though. I still had most of them when I slid into the bottom. "Bottom" being the operative word.
Luscious BLACKBERRIES |
But, it was almost worthwhile when Mom took those rescued BLACKBERRIES and baked them into a BLACKBERRY COBBLER. Still bubbling hot from the oven, she added a scoop of vanilla ice cream. Oh, my, what glorious memories. I'm salivating just thinking about it.
BLACKBERRY cobbler |
So, my friends, if you're going through a BLACKBERRY WINTER of your own, don't despair. The BLACKBERRY cobbler is coming.
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BLACKBERRY WINTER and then the warmer weather are coming soon.
If you're going through a BLACKBERRY WINTER of your own, don't despair.
Do you have any funny, scary, or memorable stories of BLACKBERRY WINTER, picking BLACKBERRIES, or eating cobbler? I'd love to hear your stories.
I remember you had to wear long sleeves and long pants to pick them! I also remember my Mamaw Lillie Gilbert telling me about something called "BlackBerry drizzle" is that the same?
ReplyDeleteI've never heard the term "Blackberry drizzle." Hmmm I may have to investigate that one. I certainly remember getting stuck with those thorns, though. Didn't matter if we had long pants or shirts on. Those thorns got me anyway.
DeleteI can remember one year when I was about 11 and I decided, bc I was ALMOST a teenager, you know, to go up behind the house in Pine Mountain and surprise Mom n Daddy with as many as I could find. So I went up to our spots and picked about half a gallon. Daddy always cut a hole in the top of a gallon milk jug and I saw the purdiest (Daddy's word for pretty) big old black berries almost the size of your thumb. But I had to turn my feet side ways to get up to wwhere I could reach to get them. So I crawled up the side and started to reach for the berries but I heard something that sounded like when you'd put little pea gravel in a bottle and I knew how Daddy warned me about snakes and some sounded like this. I backed up very slowly without him striking at me and went back down the mountain home. Now, I didn't say a word to either of them about my close encounter with the snake,,, but I NEVER forgot it!
ReplyDeleteOh, my goodness, Phyllis! Girl, I have chills thinking about how close you came. We were really watchful for rattlesnakes. My dad carried a stick and poked around before he let me get close to them. Of course, he thought he was invincible to rattlesnakes or anything else. lol He was a mountain man, of course.
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