berries

Tags: #sketchesThe berry farm, Gizditch’s, was only u-picking boysenberries. An old woman on her way out met us at the bridge, happy and carrying juice stained containers full of berries with juice stained hands. Between wide smiles she told us that she had picked last week and made a pie and was back again for more. The furthest rows, the back ones, still have the best berries, she said. So, after taring our containers with the farm kids, we walked out into the field and found the berries at the back and began to pick and sample and drop and even put some in our containers. Picking these berries is a tricky business; the bushes have lots of small thorns and some big ones. The droops, the clusters of little dooplets that we normally call berries, are sometimes barely held together because of how ripe they are. Pulling on the berry itself yields stained fingers and a tiny pile of disassembled ballettes, the individual droops, on the ground. All this berry biological anatomical…