Blackberries for the (emotional) win!

Come to me my pretties, hehehe!

Amid fires here up north and a tropical storm far to the south and east, my home state is feeling the brunt of nature's power. I'm feeling better thankfully; all it took was getting off my butt and spending two of the last three afternoons picking blackberries. And quilting, writing, and prayer of course.

But to be honest, as soon as I wrote the previous post, then explored the horizon for blackberries, my mood shifted upward. In two days, an hour each afternoon, I gathered nearly five quarts, about sixteen cups' worth. I gently wash them, basically swirling about a cup and a half at a time in tepid water, then drain them, freezing them first on baking sheets lined with parchment paper for about four hours, then transferring them to plastic freezer bags. All those steps lifted my malaise, especially when combined with elements of my life that usually bring me the the most joy.

Momentary lows beset everyone, the blues for whatever reason creeping upon my heart, perhaps only to get me to start harvesting summer's bounty. I'll pick again this afternoon, slowly wandering from plant to plant, carefully plucking the fruit that comes right off the vines, discarding what slips too easily, lol. Sometimes I collect berries that could have used an extra day or two; they are pink after the initial freezing, but oh well. Most of my haul is fine, some of it a little past fine. A good mix and so many remain, not counting all the green ones. If those properly ripen, OMG we'll have berries coming out our ears all winter long!

I am not an outdoorsy kind of gal, if you haven't noticed. My pastimes revolved around desks and tables and cozy sofas. But being pushed out of that comfort zone is necessary, both in being surrounded by nature and stretching myself within my beloved hobbies. My fictional WIP is veering into a little action-adventure; I wrote a chapter of that genre this morning with which I am pretty happy. In the fabric realm, I'm gearing up for an autumn of angles, whoo-boy! Truth be told, I'll spend this fall learning how to sew angles properly, or I'll do my utmost to keep pointy as many triangles as possible. My marigolds are still blooming, meaning the deer have yet to find them, another victory. Our amaryllis belladonna flowers are just starting to edge their way from the ground. Both my husband and I thought they should have been growing already, but having checked last year's photos, they won't be out in full until September, which is NEXT FREAKING MONTH ALREADY, dude! I hadn't copied pictures from my phone all year long, ahem, and spent much of last night doing so. Photos from late April and early May seem so innocent, in that the days were lengthening, the sky so brightly blue, the sense of summer's approach like a lover's return from ages of absence. Now our skies are murky gray from smoke and lessening light, definitely a season's end in sight. The blackberries are ripe for the picking, autumn knocking on the door.

Despite summer being my favourite season, I am ready for change. Ready for amaryllis to explode not only at my place but all over Humboldt County. I'm jazzed for slow-cooker soups and yummy stews and maybe even making a little bit of jam, we'll see how our ancient apple tree provides. I'm anticipating visits from and to the grandkids, hearing of new teachers and classmates. I'm eager to revel in some previously owned but new to me items of apparel, my autumn wardrobe getting a makeover. And I'm ready to no longer feel horribly guilty about being in the house when the weather is so beautiful outside, although last fall the days were gorgeous through most of October; we joked that this day was THE LAST NICE DAY, then another followed just as pleasant. By then the blackberries will be done, the amaryllis fading, the irises cut back and perhaps even culled. The garden will be long finished, but we'll ponder the almost daily green bean collections, as well as a few last strawberries enjoyed. Probably by October I'll have finished my novel, maybe even started the fourth of my series. I have high hopes, but nothing firmly set in stone. Life changes as we blink. Best to roll with the punches and celebrate the berries, for despite copious plants, plenteous cotton prints, and a plethora of plot lines, these exact moments will not come again.