With a small basket and sketchbook in hand, I walk down the old fire road near my house to a hidden blackberry bush that’s bursting with ripe fruit. It feels good to get out of doors and breath in the fresh air. Even with the strangely cooler weather we’ve been experiencing this summer, (about 10 degrees cooler than normal) blackberries are in abundance and tastier than ever. As I walk closer to the bush, a shapeless mass of green, I smell a sweet aroma hovering in the air.

Today I plan to paint the blackberry bush before filling up my basket. Holding my art supplies in hand, I walk around looking for a good place to draw. Luckily, I find a spot under the shade of a tree. I admire the berries in various stages of ripeness with colors ranging from inky black to a brilliant red glowing in the afternoon sun. As I pull out my paints, a couple of curious bees stop by to see what I am up to but they soon buzz off to more important matters.

While letting the watercolor dry, I reach for my basket and pick the ripe fruit, berry by berry, carefully avoiding sharp thorns. Inevitably though the bush will poke me, reminding me of the pain that often accompanies life’s pleasures and keeps the easily intimidated away. I eat some berries right off the bush, enjoying each one’s distinctive taste. Some are soft and sweet, and some are firm and almost sour. But what I love most is the inviting fragrance that smells like a delicious perfume.