Purple Fingers

It's official. I now have to carry a plastic bag with me whenever I venture along a trail or into the woods. No, I don't have Dysentery, it's berry season. IT'S BERRY SEASON! Hooray, hooray!

Those words echo excitement and anxiety through my skull. The former is obvious. The latter is so because I just wonder how I'm going to be able to pick all those berries already! It's not even July! But, like I mentioned last year, I am a berry addict, and I will find a way to get my daily fix. You can always tell an addict by their purple fingers.

Otherwise, the weather has been lovely here in da Harbor. Sunny and cool (with a few overcast mornings) -- just how I like it. I'm able to still get out in the woods for a bike ride or a run. However, those activities come to a halt when I see a bush of glistening purple balls of splendor.

It does seem odd to me. I can't just pedal or run past a berry bush and think, "Well, isn't that nice. A bilberry bush full of ripe berries." No. In fact, I don't think at all. I slam on the brakes and bust out my berry bag, kneel on the ground and go at it with both hands, picking every ripe one on the bush. I am addicted. My fingers are purple. But at least I can admit it.

So far this summer, I have eaten bilberries, blueberries, wild strawberries and one ripe raspberry. I have my eye on a few cherry trees and many thimbleberry patches. Oh, boy. Here we go again!