Someday i will write about about something other than blackberries.

Yesterday's family stroll through the blackberries was less than relaxing. The monstrous sound of a weed whacker followed us at 20 paces, mercilessly shredding the unruly blackberries in our wake. It may as well have been the Langoliers. I picked as fast as I possibly could, trying not to miss a single berry, ruing the how quickly my container was filling.

Today Bella and I went to survey the damage. Berries and leaves and stems were strewn about as if a twister had blown through, skirting the edges of the fence. I tried my best to put a happy spin on the mess. The path is clear now, no catching branches on your head, no need to worry about scratching Bella. And look, you can finally reach those plump berries that you whined about all week. But it's exhausting to always look at things in a positive light. Thousands of berries just lay there, tangled in heaps, detached from their life force. I couldn't help but feel saddened as I picked those beautiful berries out of the detritus on the ground, even the tart ones, knowing that they would not grow more delicious tomorrow or the day after.



Despite the continued surplus of fruit, I still couldn't shake my dismay. It's just a few berries, and now look at the ones you can reach. But I would rather have looked longingly at those unattainable blackberries all summer than to have to see broken and tangled branches cast away without a second thought. Could the trimming not have waited until the end of berry season? Meaningless destruction is lost potential, something I take to heart.

Luckily, I'm learning that it's not necessary to find the good in every situation, but simply to absorb the good and bad and continue on. Armed accordingly, I lamented the lost berries, salvaged the ones I could, and moved on to enjoy the new opportunities before me.
(But I'm still pissed at the weed whacker.)