P.Y.O.

Picking raspberries is a quite hypnotic way to spend the afternoon. You can tell if they’re ripe before you pluck them from the branch, as they’ll happily slip from the stalks of they are. If there’s the slightest bit of tension, you leave them there for another day.
There’s a knack to raspberry picking. First, you check out the low branches, where nobody else seems to look, as everyone else picks at eye level. It also helps if you go with a friend of a different height, so you have two eye levels between you. And second, you pick them with the flats of your fingers and thumb; not the points. That way they slip off like cosies from a tiny egg, neither bursting or staining your fingers with their blood-red juice.
Let’s hope I can find some in Spain or I’ll probably end up starving. Seems my self-taught Spanish isn’t going so well, as every time I test myself with Pio in the office he dissolves into giggles and laughter. He’s being kind, saying I’ll do fine as long as I remember to streSS thE enD oF mY WorDS like the Spanish do, but then he’s also given me the phone number of his friend in Santiago de Compostella, so I can call if I have any trouble.
If you liked that post, then try these...
Broomfield on July 24th, 2005
Wondering… on March 20th, 2005
Enough of the heat on August 7th, 2003
It’s good to be back on October 6th, 2001
Take a seat on October 14th, 2001