“Can we come, too?”

He said he was going blackberry picking the next day to gather berries to make wine. I couldn’t think of anything I’d like to do more. Not the traditional holiday activity, but one that spoke to my soul, and the perfect last day activity to cap off four amazing days on the island. We agreed on a time and the next day the four of us set out, to abandoned train tracks lined with blackberry brambles (and stinging nettles – eek! and thistles – eek!).

Our goal was 2.1 kg of berries between the four of us. As we walked further from the road, the air breathed cleaner, the sun seemed to shine brighter, the birds’ songs filled the air. We worked in silence, each absorbed in the task of finding the perfect berry, the one that practically fell from the vine as you touched it, the berry still intact, plump with juices.

My fingers shone with black, and blue, and red stains. My fingers ached from accidentally encountering thorns and thistles and nettles. I shed my jacket, welcoming the warm sun on my bare arms.

I added my bag of berries to the collective bucket, the last one to do so. 1.2 kg. We still had work to do. We continued walking down the path, each claiming a section of brambles to work. Each time we added berries to the bucket, the weight varied tremendously. 1.5 kg. 4.0 kg. 3.2 kg. 2.6 kg. We collectively decided the bucket looked reasonably full, and walked back to our cars.

Final weigh in – 3+ kg of berries. Enough for wine, and then some. And a delightful morning with dear friends, fresh air, and sunshine.