Sure.  I could have bought them at the store.  Better yet, to squelch guilt, I might have purchased them at the local Farmer’s Market.  Smart people say it is easier, less of a hassle, and more convenient to buy them at the supermarket.   If I went to the store, it would have taken me an hour and half to do it. I live in the country, you know.   It is thirty minutes one way to civilization.   Instead, I decided to be stubborn.  I spent four hours one day getting them in the wilderness.  Snakes, spiders, mosquitoes, and gnats were my companions. Oh, I also took Jordan, 8, and Moriah, 10, with me. Hank the Cowdog tagged along. That is always a given.   We walked out the back door and went deep into the woods.  We came back with battle wounds.  The kids and I had scratches.  The next day Moriah and Jordan had red swollen eyes.  They got poison ivy.  Did I give up?  No.  I went out to the yard and made a poultice of plantain to put on their eyes.  One young lad told me it look like Llama spit.  Okay, mock me.  But, I do what works.  I administered the poultice twice daily and in three days the red, puffy, itchy rash was completely gone.  My desire to get more of them was not gone.  I spent four hours one day and then returned to spend an entire eight hours to get more.

The first day I fought six foot tall weeds to find the succulent red and black treasures.  The thorny branches drooped down and grabbed me despite my caution.  The Missouri heat and humidity made it look like we had jumped into the pound.  Our efforts that first day produced one pint of wild blackberries.

Blackberries

We meandered through the woods and found wild black cherries as well.  Jordan, Moriah, and I returned home to make a wild berry jam.  I processed four quarts.  The children polished off one quart in two days.

In three days, I forgot the agony and mustered up determination to return to the woods.  This time, I took all five kids plus our niece to pick berries.  I can’t forget Hank the Cowdog.  He is an important part of this story, too.  I wanted a massive amount of berries and I wanted them bad.  By the days end, we had a mere half gallon of berry juice to make jelly. (This is an overview of the second day.  More details will follow.)  It was hardly anything to boast about.  So why endure suffocating heat and humidity and thorns for such a small return?   It would have been less complicated to go to the store.

If I just went to the store, I would have missed out on memories that will last a lifetime.  I bet some of you  have memories from Wal-mart.  Mine border post traumatic experiences. Our local Wal-mart remodeled with garish blue and orange paint. It is enough to blind a person through over stimulation.    I regularly had heated arguments with the self check out screen.  I always created quite a scene.  “ I DID bag that item.  You stupid machine”.  I punctuated each word spoken by sharply punching the screen with my index finger.  The customer in line behind me guffawed, but empathetically acknowledged having the same issue with the machine.  I was forever keeping that lady at the management station busy.  She typed in her store code to correct the problems created by my index finger.  This was a ritual  for me. Apparently, this was  common place for others too.  I was ever so delighted to see them rip those machines out and put in regular cashiers.  Another  memory is the time when the sign said the apple juice was $1.50.  My husband, the chipmunk, saw the good deal and bought 4 bottles to store under our bed. Yes, he really does store non-perishables under our bed or even in his filing cabinet.   The juice rang up for $2.00 per bottle.  My husband  took the cashier to task.  This is a regular scene because  Wal-mart signs never mean what they say.  I winked at my husband and told him I would wait in the car.  Fifteen minutes later he exited the store  hauling several heavy bags with a look of triumph on his face.  I figure there is more to making memories then the big yellow smiley face and price roll back signs.  I gladly exchange my Wal-mart experiences for what occurred that second day in the woods.  So, what exactly happened in the woods?

The day started out with me making an announcement.  “Let’s go to the woods to pick blackberries.  If we don’t get enough here on the farm, we will go to the nature trail and pick.  Be sure and put on long pants.  Bring gloves too.”  The children responded with enthusiasm including whoops and hollers.  In no time, everyone was dressed and ready to go to the woods.  When we stepped out on the porch, the Missouri humidity hugged us tightly.  No matter. All seven of us had enough enthusiasm to overcome it.  And we did just that.  Hank crawled out from under the porch wagging his tail excitedly.  He loves to explore with us.  We passed through waist high pasture grass and two fences before we reached the woods.  I had picked berries three days prior so I knew exactly where to go.  In minutes we surrounded the blackberry bushes and began plucking the berries off the bushes.  And the bushes  plucked back.  Every now and then I could hear the kids screech  “ouch”.  Hank began wandering through the brush.  The kids stayed focused save one who decided to agitate.  Soon we heard Hank take off running through the woods.  I heard a thump, thump, thump as he passed me in hot pursuit of his prize.  We were nearly finished picking, covered with sweat, and ready to head back to the house for a refreshing drink.  Zach called out, “Mom, Hank is after something.  Hey guys, let’s go see what he has”.  I responded , “Be careful.  You do not know what kind of animal he treed.”  Hank began barking furiously.  I was intrigued.  Hank does not bark.  I stepped out of the brush and saw the children running toward the barking.  “It’s a possum,” hollered Zach.  “Let’s get ‘im”.  The children ran with Zach exhibiting a pack mentality war hooping.  Seconds later Zach screams, “SKUNK”.  I looked up in time to see the children retreat with lightening speed to the center of the pasture.  Hank stopped barking and began to whine.  “Oh, you stink”, became the general consensus among the children.  Hank began frothing at the mouth and rolling obsessively on the ground.My neice and I laughed affirming the entertainment value of farm life.

Hank trying to get rid of the skunk scent

Poor Hank!

A few hours later we continued our quest to find blackberries.  We loaded up in the SUV and headed to a nature trail.  Berries were sparse.  The ground bore evidence that others had folded the grass over a few days prior and taken ripe berries.  We remained steadfast and  stayed on the trail.  The bucket filled up slowly.  The children found a small creek to play in while I picked berries.

Playing in the creek

Moriah empties her boots

As we made our way through this scenic path we took time to enjoy the beauty.

Serene beauty like this can't be found at Wal-mart.

At one point the children sat on a fallen tree to pose for pictures.

At last, we decided we should return to the vehicle.  We started back down the path.  The trees provided thick insulation from the outside world.  Jordan, 8, began singing “Our God is an Awesome God”.  We all joined in.  Soon we sang one song after another.  We couldn’t help it.  Nature’s proclamation of God’s glory is infectious.

Just buy blackberries at the store?  No thank you.  I wouldn’t trade these experience for the a half hour of over stimulation due to smiley faces and orange and blue garish paint.

Lest you think, I glamourize to a fault.  Let me assure you there were moments of irritation on the nature trail.  A huge scene interrupted our singing.  We had just finished singing these words:  His grace will lead us home.  A large fallen tree blocked our passage way on the trail.  We went off the trail through the woods and came out on the main trail again.  Suddenly, I was turned around.  I had no idea which way to go.  The children insisted I was wrong.  I insisted they were wrong.  I urged them to follow me.  One stubborn child stood  like stone refusing to move in the path.  I sent my niece ahead to see if I was right.  I was wrong.  The stubborn one smiled and peace returned.

Even this intense irritation does not overshadow the joy of our time together as a family.  Wal-mart can reproduce uniform bland blackberries, but they can not reproduce a bonded family nor create the kind of memories we made in our family that day.

Udderly His,

The Kansas Milkmaid