I think about my mom all the time. Specifically, in the summer, I think about my mom and berry picking. In July, we’d strap buckets to our belts, wield weed cutters and set off into the deep woods on the hunt for black raspberries. Trying to avoid nettles and snakes to fill our buckets with a sweet, juicy bounty that Mom would transform into jams and cobblers. I miss our berry-picking adventures, Mom. I picked these few today for you.