A quick perusal of our raspberry bushes tells me that raspberry season is not far away here in Wisconsin.  The thought alone makes my toes tingle as raspberries are my favorite of all the berries.  I can remember as a kid, growing up in Vermont, our little village was bespeckled with wild black raspberries.  Each day a bunch of us kids would ride our bikes all over town seeking out patches of these seedy, but luscious, little gems, picking only the ripest berries and popping them into our mouths; each of us racing the others for the biggest haul.  I believe that on more than one occasion a few fists were thrown also as we each jockeyed for our share.  A few days later, as more berries ripened, the ritual would start all over again. To this day, the mere sight of a black raspberry takes me back to those carefree days of childhood when my only worry was getting beaten for eating more than my share of the haul.

Fast forward back to the present; you’d think I have it made now; my very own raspberry patch, protected from raspberry thieves by our 4 foot high cedar fence. Okay, it’s not actually a patch, more like 2 or 3 bushes.  Unfortunately, that isn’t quite the case.  Of course, there are the birds who nab their fair share, though that is to be expected.  Then there is the 2 ½ year old daughter, who, last year tried to help pick a few but ended up smashing most of them.  I expect the same will be true this year also.  The biggest culprit though, is Dodger.  Dodger is our 7 year old English springer spaniel, and he loves raspberries.  Well, he loves most anything, but that is a whole different story.  Dodger loves raspberries, and in the course of his 7 years he has perfected his moves for plucking ripe raspberries off the vine without disturbing the unripe ones, or pricking himself on the raspberries’ thorns.  If I’m not fast enough, or diligent enough, every berry from ground level to about 3 ½ feet up will be his.  Luckily, this year looks to be a bumper crop so there will be enough to go around.

Every year as I see the raspberry bushes bloom and the fruit start to develop, I start making plans for all the ways I will use the raspberries I’ve grown.  But, I admit it, I am weak willed and often go for instant gratification as opposed to more long term rewards.  Translated, that means I end up eating more than I put in the bowl.  If I’m lucky, I might have saved enough for some raspberry muffins or scones.  The serious jam making will usually have to wait until we can get to a “U-Pick” farm where I try desperately to control all those reflexes I developed as a kid.  While some might view me as lacking will power, I prefer to think of it as honoring nature, because really, how can you improve on a falling-off-the-vine ripe raspberry that has been sun warmed until almost bursting.

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