I spent last week at the Russian River. It was lovely and warm. The water was deep enough to jump into from the dock, I drank my share of Sonoma wine (and beer from the keg that was parked on the porch), and canoed up and down the river in the morning as the mist was rising from the water. And everywhere I looked I saw blackberries.
I know I was technically on vacation, but I couldn't resist. So I went picking.
At first I went by myself and braved treacherous conditions. Giant spiders! Creaking redwoods (I wasn't gonna wait around for that branch to fall)! Cracked-out locals! Thorns! Blistering Sun! Needless to say, I didn't last long. Just long enough to gather berries for one pie.
The next day, Jesse joined me and we descended on the brambles en masse. The scary spots I had scoped out the day before didn't seem quite so bad the next day. Spiders? Wooden stick! Redwoods? I think I imagined those creaks! locals? Are actually nice and told us of a better picking spot!
Wild Russian River Blackberries. Hooray!