One for the bucket, one for me...
One for the bucket, two for me...
Well, you get the picture, right?
About half of what I pick actually makes it into the house.
Nothing is better than a ripe, juicy, sun-warmed blackberry!
It is SO hard to leave the ones that I can't reach!
You'd think that at my age I'd have more self-control.
The back of my hands are scratched up from the thorns.
I am convinced that the inventor of Velcro
spent his/her childhood summers picking blackberries.