Berry-picking

We've been on a blackberry kick ever since our little picnic yesterday.

Dad had the great idea to eat leftovers on quilts out in the pasture.

It was perfect.



Afterwords, Clay, Q, and I poked around a little bit and managed to fill 2 Solo cups to brimming with ripe berries.

We couldn't find the illusive tart recipe from our childhood, so we decided to go with a cobbler.




It wasn't bad by any means, but we knew it could be improved upon.



So, after church today (and after Q drove us all home, and I thought I would have to dig Mom's fingernails out of my leg)...



... the three of us set out again, this time armed with long pants, boots, and buckets.

After 3 hours, we came in the door with 20 cups of black berries!!!

(P.S. We call them blackberries now. After extensive online research, we have concluded that you can call them whatever you want. Dewberries, blackberries, snozberries. There is no clear answer out there, so I'm going with blackberry for everyday use, and dewberry when I'm feeling nostalgic for my PawPaw Wells. Snozberry, probably never, but the reference makes me smile)



Tonight's recipe:



Oh heavens.



Indeed.



Happy campers all the way down to the floor.



Now, on to other recipes!