As I was spreading my raspberry jam onto my toast this morning, I was taken back in time to when we used to pick raspberries on Mt. Graham.(is that spelled right? it doesn't look right) Anyway, it was a big event. We made a whole day of it. We would drive and drive up the mountain until we found a good spot. Everyone would take their buckets and split up and start picking. Our hands and arms would get all scratched up from the raspberry bushes. I would get tired and bored and hungry and hot and whatever else I could think of to whine about. Then we would go find another spot after that one was all picked over. After a long day and buckets and buckets of raspberries later, we would head for home. Then the real work began. I don't remember this part so much. Probably because Mom did most of it, but the results tasted wonderful! Jars and jars and jars of jam. Raspberry pies to put in the freezer to be baked on Sundays. Heavenly! I know it was ALOT of work, but it was good work. It taught us some valuable lessons. Things that MY kids will probably never learn. And even though we can buy raspberry jam and raspberry pie whenever we want in the store, it's not the same. Never will be.
3 comments:
Your making me hungry!
I remember the raspberry picking - it was so fun just to be in the mountains. But we didn't work the whole time... I remember JoAn going with us one time and she taught us cheers while everyone else picked. I guess we can't blame our kids for trying to get out of work!
how come I don't remember that? What a nostalgic memory Becky....and you wrote about it so well, I do remember you guys always having that homemade rasberry jam that is to die for, I think your mom even gave us a jar once and we devoured it!!!! So Yummy, did you really make pies too? Wow what a good life!
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