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What you can learn about life from Raspberry picking

Kimberlee Mule

Posted on July 02 2019

When I was a little girl, my dad and step-mom had a gorgeous red Raspberry patch. Intentionally planted and cultivated with love, knowledge and sweat equity, it produced a magnificent amount of sweet and juicy berries. 

“Where’s Dad?” My little brother and I would ask. 

“In the berries.”

My dad spent countless hours pruning, trimming, picking, and cussing.
I can’t tell you how many stings he suffered and don’t get me started on the scratches. He could tell you (or anyone else who would listen) which stalks were this years and which were last years. He carefully monitored last years stalks because those were the ones that produced the fruit. 

Sometimes, I would stand at the edge of the berry patch and pick.
I’d tightly clutch a little blue berry basket, you know, the cardboard ones, terrified to drop it and waste berries. I didn’t want to put it down, as I was afraid to kick it over. I gingerly reach my arm in, trying to avoid bees, wasps, raccoon, snakes and whatever else my overactive imagination could conjure up. 

When I’d find ripe berries, that was a whole different challenge. The ripe ones pulled right off. If you pulled on one that wasn’t quite ready, it would shake the bush and all the ripe ones would tumble to the ground. 

Don't grab too tight or you’ll end up with berry juice all over your fingers....which was too much like fingerpaint. I was curious if I could draw on the sidewalk with ripe raspberries. 

My sweet Dad picked about 15 tons of ripe red raspberries a year.
Well, not really. But it was A LOT. 

Next, it was my stepmothers turn to cook and bake and make jam and whatever else she would find a recipe for. We ate raspberries until we wanted to barf at the site of them. The only thing that was more prolific in their garden was Vitamin Z. Does anyone know what that is???

As an adult and a homeowner, I adore my little berry patch.
Mother Nature gifted me some wild black caps a few years ago and we’ve been intentionally cultivating them since we discovered them. Every time I pick, I think of my Dad, and how hard working he was at those berries, and everything he has done in life. And my step mother, baking and canning sweet treats full of love for her family.

So, what can we learn from berry picking?
1: The sweet things in life sometimes are preceded by a lot of hard work.
2: Sometimes, you’re going to get stung, but that’s ok. It’s a reminder to respect the space of the other creatures with whom we share this planet with.
They’re just trying to feed their family too.
3: Occasionally, when reaching for something sweet if you take a misstep, you might get scratched. This is also ok!!! A little pain is a reminder of how sweet the berries of life really are. Life is all about juxtaposition. Of what? Well, that’s up to you.
4: With time, Patience, knowledge and practice you can provide for your family...and your neighbors family.
5: With a little creativity, you can turn one thing into a hundred different glorious things.
6: A quart of homegrown and handpicked anything is more than food. It is love, and energy shared: between the grower and the Planet. But also between the plant and person consuming it. It’s powerful and magical energy to eat something you’ve grown yourself.
7: Got some berry juice stains on your hands? Consider it a reminder that you've done something worthwhile with your time today.
8: I can’t tell you what I got for Christmas or my birthday every year, but I remember the time spent in the garden, around the family table eating and sharing. Memories are made in the everyday. So cherish every day.





three sisters herbals blog posts

About: Kim is a momma, wife and small business owner. 
She lives with her family in Duchess County, NY, where she enjoys her rescue dog, bunnies, hamsters and chickens. And her daughter's cat... Grand Kitty.
Her family loves camping, gardening, hiking, geocaching, and all things Boy Scouting. 
She is the owner/creator of Three Sisters Herbals, LLC., which she affectionately calls “her other baby”. 
TSH is the same age as her youngest human baby, and they are all growing up together.


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