Ignoring the terrifying things from this weekend like the giant cheesesteak I consumed, a whirlwind bachelorette night on the town, visiting a 12-day-old baby that looked like an old man, and the aforementioned drive through the night, I do have one lovely memory from Saturday afternoon: raspberry picking.
B's dad is a prolific organic gardener, with a backyard that yields all kinds of delicious things. Is it possible that I've been alive this many years and I never knew about golden raspberries?
Photo from Dabbles with Apples
We picked them right off the bush and ate them, standing there in the middle of the backyard. They were so sweet and huge.
When we got back to Annapolis, I promptly went to the grocery store Sunday evening and bought a slew of berries. I couldn't find golden raspberries in my crapola Giant (especially on a Sunday - I think their produce comes in on Mondays - oops), but the regular raspberries I got were pretty good too.
Photo from Inchmark
Mmm. We've already demolished the entire stash of berries, but I'm planning to buy more soon, and in the meantime, I'm still thinking about those golden raspberries, fresh off the bush. (Perhaps a Whole Foods trip is in order...)
Thank you, summer. I've been waiting for you and your bounty of berries.