It is November now, typically a time of dark skies and never ending rain in the Pacific Northwest. However, we haven’t had the rain settle in this year. One day it will rain, then the next is dry and clear, though not warm. So, I’m still picking raspberries. The kiwi golds and fall golds were late this year, but the plants have enough energy to keep pushing the berries out. The colors of the berries match the glowing yellow leaves of the big leaf maples. It is strange to be picking berries with stiff, cold fingers. I use the sense of touch as an indicator that a berry is ripe. A gentle tug should release the raspberry from the core. Color also is an indicator. The red berries get a bit of a purple blush when they are ripe. The yellow berries look almost orange.

Usually one or both of the dogs keep me company at the berry rows. They know that any dropped berries are theirs. They also have the right to graze on any low berries. If we don’t tie up the canes as we should, the dog notice this and search for their snacks. Sometimes they get lazy and, if I set a bowl of berries on the ground to reach for some jewels at the end of a tall cane, I’ll see a white dog casually reaching for the already picked fruit. “Go pick your own!” I tell them. Samoyeds never look guilty. They just smile their ever present smile and look up at me happily. They know that more berries will drop and that we grow enough for family, friends, and white dogs.