By Pam Bloom

Dear Neighbor,

Briars, chiggers, stained fingers and finally — blackberries. Berries to eat off the bush, berries to sweeten for homemade cobbler. Blackberries — a bucket full of memories.

I grew up picking blackberries. Grew up before bug spray and sunscreen. Still know how to dress to avoid chiggers, poison ivy, ticks and snakes and sunburn. Know a hat is a necessity. Know how to wear a glove on my non-picking hand in order to pull back a vine and survive the briars. Know a bucket over my arm makes picking easier. Know to return home and wash immediately to definitely avoid chiggers and poison ivy. Know where to check for elusive ticks. Know to rinse the berries in enough water to avoid most of the ants. Know how to make a good cobbler and savor the season.

A few years ago, I moved some plants and dirt from the countryside to my urban garden and, unknown to me, ended up with some blackberry canes. At first, I pulled them out to make room for my carefully purchased vegetables and annuals. With my eventual realization that the resident groundhog was going to eat anything I intended to consume or enjoy, I developed a sustainable gardening style that welcomed vegetation the birds and bees might enjoy and that I didn’t have to water. I have embraced many unplanned and beneficial weeds as lovely additions and this year, with the early spring rains, I had my first substantial crop of blackberries among the rosemary and hardy herbs.

My three-year-old granddaughter has regularly inspected the blackberry canes this spring, watching the development of flowers to tiny green berries, to red, to finally becoming a  connoisseur, knowing how to examine a berry with her eyes to tell if it was truly black and at that perfect sweetness before picking it. Once the berries started to appear, I watched her carefully avoid the thorns and pick three ripe berries and rush inside, proclaiming that she had brought berries to share. I also watched her stop and look closely at the three berries in her hand and then pop the plumpest and juiciest one into her mouth before moving forward and graciously bestowing the smaller berries with a sweet, “here you go.” I held my tongue and allowed her that tiny bit of selfishness.

Sometimes patience needs a reward.

Life lessons. Whether picking berries for years on end as a country girl or like Ella, becoming fully immersed in a new experience, life keeps rolling along and changing every day as we gather memories and also learn through our actions.

I picked the remaining blackberries today and discovered they were sweeter than I expected. It was my reminder to pay attention and not to limit my expectations or forget to stay engaged in life, arms wide open, briars and all.

“Dear Neighbor” authors are united in a belief that civility and passion can coexist. We believe curiosity and conversation make us a better community.