Raspberries

Scratched legs, mosquito and no see um-bitten (I thought they were gone for the year), sweat running down in uncomfortable rivulets; these things are a small price to pay for a basket-full of the best summer fruit. Lethal vines, taller than me with 1/4 inch barbs guard the way to the biggest and most perfectly ripe berries. No matter. I judiciously pick through to find the elusive big ones. Somehow, picking in a tame garden doesn't hold the same sense of triumph!


Rubus idaeus is the botanical name for the tart/sweet fruit from the Rosaceae (rose) family. Wikipedia also lists: bright crimson red color; blowing a raspberry (obnoxious sound as a symbol of disrespect); a 70s pop rock band; and the Golden Raspberries, awards for the worst films and actors, an opposite to the Academy Awards.

The leaves of the raspberry plant also make a good woman's tea, used to soothe PMS, ease childbirth, also as a diuretic and has astringent properties, an all-around good woman's tonic. Somehow on the hunt for the fruit I never think of also collecting the leaves which by this time are not as powerful as all the plant energy is going into the fruit.

The tomato plants look forlorn and bereft and I see more tomatoes starting to turn black so leaving them on the plant will probably not save all of them.

The picked berries or what's left of them after sharing with the berry baby dog Pak have already gone into the freezer in a single layer for use this winter as a reminder of the triumph of the day. There is nothing though like eating them straight from the plant with no adornments. Pak knows this. I have never before seen a dog find, rip off, and voraciously inhale Black Hills chokecherries, blueberries, blackberries, gooseberries, any kind of berry except she's not too keen on cranberries!