Wednesday, June 25, 2014

all y'all pickers

I promise this is the last berry picking story (well, this season anyway). I just have to say you really haven't lived until you've spent some time in the fields with a gaggle of kids on a quiet morning... overcast skies, the random call of a bird swooping in to pluck blueberries, the feel of dirt in your toes, and the glorious stain of blackberries oozing into fingertips; the knowing tip of the hat to a fellow picker your Grandmother's age who, alone in her reverie of picking, is sure to go home and bake the pie you can only dream of. 

 This morning I heard "All Y'all, this bush is full of blueberries!" from a few rows over - you know you're in the rows with a true Southerner when you hear that. As if "y'all" isn't enough, adding "all y'all" really drives home the inclusion of everyone in the group like no other expression on earth. I adopted "y'all" once I had twins as it really is the most efficient way of herding a group of kids ( and a nod to my Augusta, Georgia roots) but "all y'all" could take some mulling...  

There is nothing like the taste of fruit from the field picked by the hands of exuberant children taking pride in their finds. Make a date and go!

photos by Kylie Sabine

*dedicated to RTW, Queen peach poacher


  1. "...JBW not available for comment."

  2. Where did you pick these berries at? They look great.