Blackberry Pickin' Time
A memory from Hoosier boyhood days that yet lingers,
Is blackberry pickin' time and the stain it left upon my fingers!
Stained fingers on both hands would a country boy betray,
That he had been on another blackberry pickin' foray!
Brambles grew wild on the farm and along the road.
Bushes bent low with luscious beauties to behold!
'Twas a pleasant chore for a barefoot lad with tanned cheeks,
Roamin' the fields and dawdlin' to wade in nearby creeks!
I'd toss four berries in my mouth to one in the pail.
Ma's stern admonition about that was to no avail.
Some were as big as a thumb, just so as to compare,
And I mean as big as Pa's thumb, I honestly do declare!
The pickin' done, Ma would shoo us kids out of the way,
Then, waftin' from the kitchen was a most pleasant bouquet,
As she scurried about preparin' preserves, jams and jellies,
And bakin' cobblers and pies to fill our youthful bellies!
Ma filled mason jars with jam, jelly, peach and pear,
And stored them in the cellar for our winter's fare.
'Tis handy to buy jellies and such at the store today, I reckon,
But the memory of summer berry pickin' to me will ever beckon!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
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