It’s been a few weeks of constant meetings for me. It seems that daily I have to get myself looking semi-presentable and lug my laptop along to a client’s workspace. Thankfully, grandpa lives right around the corner from us, and my boys are always amped to visit for a few hours. I now know one of the reasons they are always delighted when I send them over – grandpa has the sweet spots on the train tracks for picking blackberries.
As a kid, the train tracks were a forbidden area with out a grown-up, but it didn’t stop my brother from carting me along this shortcut when he wanted to visit a friend on the other side of our neighbourhood while babysitting me. I remember the summer blackberries that lined the tracks, and how I’d struggle to keep up with him while stuffing my face full of the beautiful black berries.
Fast forward a few decades and I arrived home early from a meeting to find my kids out on the tracks with grandpa picking berries. I was greeted with berries that were (apparently) picked especially for me. Berries so ripe they seemed to melt on my tongue – and so sweet I still crave them as I write.
I wrote yesterday about how my kids learned about food production via the UBC Botanical Garden, and then low and behold today we learned a lesson in urban food gleaning… and have the purple-stained hands to prove it! Our plans include smoothies and berries on cereal tomorrow morning if they last the night. My youngest son wanted to open a blackberry stand so that we can “make $600 and go to Hawaii.” Awe man, if only that were true.