When I was younger, raspberries were an elusive summertime treat. They were guarded by prickly thorns, but that wouldn’t stop my sister and I from trying to obtain the little red berries. We carefully wove our hands through the branches to grab the soft fruits. Some scratches wouldn’t deter us from our mission– the flavor was worth the struggle. We loaded our findings into a small container, and kept all of them for ourselves. These were our hard-earned treasures. The tart juice filled our mouths and stained our fingertips – the sign of a valiant battle against the fruit’s spiky defenses.
Be First to Comment