Blackberries

Blackberries are getting ripe in Washington.  Creeping along fences and onto pathways, they seem to grow wherever there is not an ongoing effort to contain them.  Interestingly all of the berries do not ripen simultaneously, granting anyone willing enough to brave the thorns that protect this succulent fruit multiple opportunities to gather the black, juicy tidbits the vines offer.  The sunny summer weather has produced a bounty to harvest.  How sad that so many will pass by and fail to gather this gift of nature until the overripe fruit falls to the ground below to tempt smaller gatherers or to perpetuate the vines themselves with their fallen seeds.

There is an unused building near the entrance to the RV Park where we currently reside.  From the street the structure looks almost abandoned with windows boarded up and the growth of blackberry canes surrounding it on all sides in the mounded shapes of greenery their growth favors.  I cannot help but imagine bears in their mountain habitats surrounding Seattle must also be finding the potential blackberry harvest a treasure trove of sweetness.

The fence between the entrance road of our RV Park and this unused building hides most of what is beyond but does not deter the blackberries that dangle along its top.  Mingled with an occasional sprig of red currant berries and a few blooming wildflower vines, the blackberries seem to beg for an artist’s stroke on paper or a photograph.  Bees from their hive hidden in a bush on the opposite side of the road busily rush to and fro and swirl through my imaginary painting.  They are on missions to gather other bounty from the late summer’s offerings and do not pause with me or on the berries. 

All of this happens within the narrow confines of a driveway in the middle of a city block lying between two major highways.  So many will never know the pleasures of this brief moment with nature as I walk.  I have been provided with a glorious example of the eternity of nature and the awe it evokes.  The city fades away from my consciousness and the cool morning air encourages me to walk further.  What other stories will be told to me as I travel this temporary path in our travels?