Blackberry Musings

I savor my first luscious blackberry, tasting the rain of the end of summer in their juicy sweetness. I imagine huge fields covered with cheesecloth and the glee of a bird who sees one ripe blackberry within his reach, uncovered.

Eating blackberries is not only sensuous to my tongue, there is that niggling aprehension about THE SEED. There is always at least one seed, sometimes two, that cannot be eaten and waits quietly on my tooth for me to take it out of my mouth.  Is it the Mother Seed? I wonder thinking maybe this is the only seed that will propagate blackberries. I respect the seed, lining them up like little soldiers on my bowl.

I guess now you know why I can't eat blackberries in public!

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Halloween was last night and at the last minute, I got two cartons of cookies. There were three kinds and one cute little boy said to his even littler sister, "Do  you want ore-wee-ohs or animal cwackers?" I had dressed up in my master's robe and witch's hat with the purple boa (on the hat).  

This prompted a little girl to stage whisper to her mother, "It's a mean witch!" We all laughed as I told her I was actually a nice witch. After all, I was giving the kid cookies.

I had 59 kids (actually one was a parent and one kid came back twice). How do I know? This is what I had left out of 60 packets of cookies.

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I'm off to breakfast. More later.