This past weekend we drove over the Santa Cruz Mountains to the coast to go berry picking. It was an ideal morning for it -- the fog hadn't entirely lifted so it was still cool, and it was early enough that there were only a few other people out in the brambles with us. Picking berries is addictive: you pick a few pounds and talk about wrapping it up, but then there is the perfect berry, and the next perfect berry, and the next... and before you know it there are 10 pounds of blackberries piled into your baskets, another 2 in your stomach, and a nice purple hue on your fingers and tongue.
