A trip to the garden begins here, at the barn.
Everything is late this year. There has been so much rain. Everywhere is green. The blackberries should be starting. Time to check. The weather has cleared and with the nights cooling down, it may be now or never. It would be nice to find enough for breakfast. The best berry patch is on the far side of the field, through the Christmas trees and beyond to the edge of the clearing.
This is about the area where I begin to sing. Anything. It is good to let the other berry lovers know I'm coming.
I zig zag my way through the field. Row crosses row. Sing.... sing!
I'm not the first. She can have that one.
I pick better than a quart, munching as I work. This is the way I like them best, warm from the sun and sweet. Most of the berries are still green. Another day's berries. I head for home.
The field across the road is golden in the sunlight. The season has moved on. Funny how it happens. Almost overnight.
I've hit the section of the Mystery Stole that I can describe only as the doldrums. Over and over. I'm slogging my way through to Clue 5... falling weeks behind.