Obviously, my mind is totally in the berry field instead of thinking about work.
Thinking about blackberry pies has me remembering berry picking in years past at farms that I can no longer recall how to reach.
One summer in Columbia, Porkchop and I followed a friend out to a berry field somewhere north of town. Way north. On the hilly, twisty little roads that I love in north central Missouri.
This berry field was on a hill in the middle of freaking nowhere. It was terrific – mainly blueberries, but a very good selection of blackberries, raspberries, yellow raspberries, and so forth. I just wish I could remember where it was.
And there was the pick-your-own blueberry patch that operated on the honor system! This was south of Columbia, and my roommate Jenni and I went their several times. You would fill up your bucket, weigh it, put the money in an envelope, slip the envelope into a locked box, and then put your berries in a bag.
I miss these berry places.
In Madison, Porkchop and I would pick strawberries at Carandale Farms. Carandale was great, but it was always crawling with other people. I wanted a berry farm where there were maybe a few other people…not massive crowds. Alas.