I think there are few things in life more satisfying than going out in the backyard and picking food that you’ve grown. This morning it was satisfying because I didn’t go to the shops to resupply my berries yesterday. Usually this would result in a sub- standard breakfast. But not today. Thanks to Waldo, our magnificent thornless blackberry bush.
Today may have been about the eating, but other days the satisfaction lies in the berry picking process itself. It feels like a treasure hunt. Searching for the ones that are perfectly ripe. Thinking you’ve got them all and then looking from a different angle and hitting the jackpot. Here’s the thing about that jackpot find though; those berries are always the most perfect, but they’re also always the most difficult to reach.
Two days ago I found myself in bare feet, balancing precariously over a neglected compost bin and reaching through a climbing rose to reach those jackpot berries. The result? Satisfaction reigned supreme despite minor injuries.
I don’t even know if I ate them to be honest. My kids took their handfuls of the harvest and I was left with the sad looking ones. But as their chins become stained with the burgundy juice and they started resembling vampires, my satisfaction remained. Because the harvesting process was mine. And it was a challenge. And it was fun.