Although the Willamette Valley gets a lot of rain in the fall, winter, and spring, there's normally zero precipitation from May through September. The past couple of weeks, however, have brought some unseasonable showers, and I guess the blackberries have suffered.
About a week ago I started off toward my favorite blackberry patch with an empty pail and heart full of good cheer. There were still plenty of ripe berries, but up close things didn't look or smell so good. The pungent, fermentatios aroma reminded me of vinegar. The berries had lost their luster, and mold was overtaking them. In places whole clumps had just turned to masses of gray. The few that looked good enough to pick seemed to come off too easily and partially fall apart in my fingers. And the taste wasn't quite right. I groped for a while among the aura of decay and returned home with only a couple dozen berries in my bucket.
"Everything in its season," I told Leela, who likes to amass large quantities of various berries and freeze them so we can enjoy them year round. I've tried to convince her that if we go without them for most of the year, then we'll appreciate them all the more. Maybe. Or maybe the season isn't over after all. Yesterday I went for a walk in the park and found plenty of good blackberries in another place, with more green ones on the way. So goes the season.
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