The Blackberries and I

Over the past few weeks, my relationship with blackberries has become very complex. I swing wildly from outright hatred to fierce desire. How should I feel about this prickly, stubborn, crazy delicious menace?

All along the back of our property is a gigantic swath of blackberry bushes. They are not even on our land and yet they encroach rapidly. Shanti hacks at them with a crazed fervor every few months, but they only return stronger to strangle our bushes and creep along our lawn. I spent an hour digging them from under a lilac the other day. The roots were so old and deep that there was no way I could dig them all up. Unfortunately digging them up is the only way to eradicate them....well that and evil poison.

At least once a day I silently curse them. Until 2 weeks ago.
I was running down the road to put some mail into a neighbours post box when I realized that the bushes lining the road were laden with plump, purpely black berries. I popped one in my mouth and then ran like a crazy lady back to the house to call the family to pick.

I have just spent 20 minutes harvesting along the back of the house. The picking itself is painful and hard...and yet the reward is so sweet. The berries burst in your mouth. They have quickly become my most favorite berry. I am baking pie and crumbles and sprinkling them in yogurt. I am having anxiety that I can not reach all of them and that many are going to waste. I am covered in scratches and itchy spores. Today when I went running, I actually had to stop mid stride to eat some beside the road...the temptation was too great.

So do I love this scourge of the island? If the blackberries suddenly all died, would I rejoice that a noxious weed had been vanquished, or would I shed a silent tear that the late months of summer on Vashon would no longer hold such sweet sweet morsels scattered along the roads for anyone to take?