Ode to blackberries

Yes, I might have a problem. I see them everywhere. And when I see one, I see tones of them around it and they are big, they are round, round, round and they are juicy and bitter when they burst in my mouth. I lick my lips, I chew the seeds and I keep looking out for more.

I’ve eaten loads as I’m sure Leo di Caprio and this cartoon would do if they could.


I’ve definitely topped up my antioxidants levels with Vitamin C and flavonoids.

I’ve had them fresh from the bush, washed and mixed in my yogurt, on a toast with peanut butter, as a smoothie or ice lolly. I have even made jam.

I had to fight for them, but in the end, nature surrendered and I made the black treasure mine.

I really hope this my madness goes away soon. I am suffering. At the moment, I just wonder if the recent showers will make my condition worse. My precious berries were thirsty indeed. The soil has been screaming for water lately. Have you heard?

A friend comforted me with this poem. Now I know I’m not alone in my ecstasy. The remedy? I’ll just wait for Autumn to come and take my joy away, I guess. Once again. Because, in the end, what does he care? He’s been doing it for centuries.

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