Blackberries

Washington is overrun with the most noxious and awesome of weeds, the Himalayan blackberry.  In the summer, the thorny vines encroach on any and every untended space.  We pulled runners away from over and under our fence, as well as crawling back down the tree in our yard.  The thorns (or jaggers, as Pittsburghers have made me fond of saying) are a wicked surprise in the woods and make clean up a hassle.  But then, for several delightful weeks at the end of summer, every abandoned thicket and hedge is transformed into a fragrant, fruit bearing orchard.  Matt's house in college had a big thicket in the back that allowed us to make gallons of jam, and stacks of crisps and cobblers and pies.  You hardly need to buy fruit if you have a good spot to harvet these things.

And blackberry season is finally here again.  It seemed delayed for weeks due to the dry summer, but the air is full of that sweet fruity smell again.  On Sunday we floated along the Slough (a term meaning a 'river' so slow it's unclear which direction it might run.  Rhymes with Phew, it wasn't hard to paddle!), where the major hazard of falling in is not drowning, but be pieced to death by blackberries if you had to swim out.  And although the berries at our house are sweet and flavorful- the berries on the slough were monsterously juicy from gorging themselves on water all summer.  Himalayan Blackberries are not known for moderation.

In the spirit of summer, I've been having black berry smoothies and and have another blackberry cobbler in the oven (or possibly a mess of berries with a sweet biscuit in the middle, we'll see what comes out).