Poppa's Blackberries - Black-Raspberries for those of you who only know the big ones
(yes, I realize I haven't posted in FOREVER)
When I was growing up I spent some time every summer at my Nannie & Poppa's house just West of St. Catherines in Louth Township, Lincoln County . Nannie and Poppa had blackberry bushes in the backyard, and there were always tons of bushes around the area as well. We would pick blackberries with Poppa every summer. In the backyard, along the orchard across the street, and along 13th Street Louth as well. Poppa would always make blackberry jam and it was always my favourite. I don't mind strawberry jam, but other jams are just of no interest to me. I have never picked blackberries anywhere else and I have have never had blackberry jam from anyone else, nor have I even seen it anywhere.
Over the past few summers, even before Poppa passed away, I have tried to find blackberries. No...not those big bulging monstrosities that you can find everywhere...little ones...they look like raspberries...only they're black, seedier and sweeter. I have never found them anywhere, at any grocery store or any farmers market. The few times someone has heard of them it's past their 2 week window, or they guy has already left the market for the day, and there on. I keep referring to them as black-raspberries so that folks don't get confused...but to me...they're just blackberries. A friend from out West knew what I was talking about when I mentioned them.
This summer, while out walking in the public park near our home, I found some. A couple of large beautiful blackerry bushes, with tons of berries growing. So for three weeks, I'd force my husband to go for a walk with me. Luckily we were house sitting my Mum's dog, Storm...it gave me an excuse to make us go out, otherwise, he'd wait around, bored, while playing on his iPod, while I got right in there, bitten by mosquitos, scratched by the berry bushes, the thistles and the ever greens, and every day I'd pick about a cup worth of berries if I was lucky. Then I'd get home, throw them in a ziplock bag and toss them in the freezer, in the hopes of someday making Poppa's Jam.
These berry picking moments were wonderful. It was like Poppa was talking to me...telling me that this is exactly where I'm supposed to be in my life right now. Just like back at his place, with the cicadas buzzing, the morning doves cooing and the juicy blackberries ready to be picked. I could hear his voice in all of those sounds and it felt like home.
When I was growing up I spent some time every summer at my Nannie & Poppa's house just West of St. Catherines in Louth Township, Lincoln County . Nannie and Poppa had blackberry bushes in the backyard, and there were always tons of bushes around the area as well. We would pick blackberries with Poppa every summer. In the backyard, along the orchard across the street, and along 13th Street Louth as well. Poppa would always make blackberry jam and it was always my favourite. I don't mind strawberry jam, but other jams are just of no interest to me. I have never picked blackberries anywhere else and I have have never had blackberry jam from anyone else, nor have I even seen it anywhere.
Over the past few summers, even before Poppa passed away, I have tried to find blackberries. No...not those big bulging monstrosities that you can find everywhere...little ones...they look like raspberries...only they're black, seedier and sweeter. I have never found them anywhere, at any grocery store or any farmers market. The few times someone has heard of them it's past their 2 week window, or they guy has already left the market for the day, and there on. I keep referring to them as black-raspberries so that folks don't get confused...but to me...they're just blackberries. A friend from out West knew what I was talking about when I mentioned them.
This summer, while out walking in the public park near our home, I found some. A couple of large beautiful blackerry bushes, with tons of berries growing. So for three weeks, I'd force my husband to go for a walk with me. Luckily we were house sitting my Mum's dog, Storm...it gave me an excuse to make us go out, otherwise, he'd wait around, bored, while playing on his iPod, while I got right in there, bitten by mosquitos, scratched by the berry bushes, the thistles and the ever greens, and every day I'd pick about a cup worth of berries if I was lucky. Then I'd get home, throw them in a ziplock bag and toss them in the freezer, in the hopes of someday making Poppa's Jam.
These berry picking moments were wonderful. It was like Poppa was talking to me...telling me that this is exactly where I'm supposed to be in my life right now. Just like back at his place, with the cicadas buzzing, the morning doves cooing and the juicy blackberries ready to be picked. I could hear his voice in all of those sounds and it felt like home.
Labels: blackberries, blackberry, Lincoln County, Louth Township, picking
posted by PrincessDoubt @ 4:36 p.m.
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