|Before they are berries, they are called flowers|
|Wild berries down the road|
Those bushes held the promise of a nice harvest of berries.
Well, I told no lies. They were over-loaded with pretty little blackberries. Of course, little did I know that I had a nice out-cropping of berries in the backyard, too. Unknown to me, they grew in and among the Rhododendrons. Actually, they always pop up there, but I usually weed them out before they get to this level of production. Well, what can I say? Procrastination, at times, has its rewards.
Mac Pike admonished me to take care of the bears who frequent berry patches and declare them as their own, no matter what you may think of that notion.
I promptly told him I had never seen a bear in my yard, although the boys have since said otherwise. Brandon, who lives less than half a mile from here, told me a bear snatched up his garbage when they neglected to stow it properly away. Perhaps one should pay a bit more mind to the ramblings of Uncle Mac especially when he speaks of the bears.
Well, I still think I'm safe when picking berries, but now I do make quite certain there are no bears around.