We Broke the Law

As bad as I feel about our pool disaster, I know that Mr. Bill feels worse. He blames himself for the construction miscalculation and feels that he disappointed both Robby and me. I've tried to assure him that I harbor no ill will and that I'm grateful that he tried. I can tell by looking into his eyes that he feels horrible, and I'm at a loss for words to convey that it's really okay.

When words fails me, I turn to baked goods. I decided that now, more than ever, Mr. Bill deserved a special treat and I knew exactly what to make. He has been hinting for a blackberry pie "just like my Mama made" ever since the berries on the wild vines between our yards started to ripen.

Early in the morning before the heat became overly oppressive, I went out with my berry bucket and picked the vines clean. I managed to scavenge about a cup of berries, enough for a snack but not nearly enough for a pie. Thankfully, I knew the perfect place to go where the blackberry vines are thick and relatively untouched. I grabbed another bucket, packed up Robby, and headed to the park.

Our local park is flanked on three sides by wild blackberry and raspberry bushes. Robby and I have been picking berries there since he was an infant and, now that he is older, I was hopeful that he would pick more berries than he would squish between his fingers. Between the two of us, I planned on having the necessary four cups of berries picked within an hour.

Driving past the grocery store on the way to the park I flirted with the idea of simply buying the berries. Somehow though, that felt like cheating. I wanted Mr. Bill to have the pie he remembered from his childhood, and that started with freshly picked, wild grown Virginia blackberries. I pulled into the park and we set out picking.

My suspicions were correct and the berries were plentiful. Robby and I had no trouble picking two buckets full of ripe, juicy blackberries. If you include the berries that were consumed by both of us, we probably picked close to two and a half buckets!

The park was quiet and, with the exception of a Boot Camp fitness class, we didn't see anybody. We were topping off both our buckets and our bellies when a uniformed police officer walked by. Robby immediately said hello and we began to chat.

He asked me if the berries were sweet this year, and what I was planning on doing with them. Robby explained that we are baking a blackberry pie for Mr. Bill because he is sad. He then proudly showed the officer both buckets heaping with the fragrant berries.

The smile on the Officer's face began to fade as the tone of the conversation took an unexpected turn. "Ma'am, did you know that it is illegal to pick berries here?"  I'm pretty sure my jaw dropped, which was probably not a pretty sight considering the blackberry seeds stuck in my teeth! I nervously admitted that "had I known it was against the law, I would not have shown you both buckets."

Robby became upset and offered to put all the berries back. The Officer explained that had received a call from somebody reporting my berry picking. He stated that he was obligated to come and meet with me, but that he would allow us to keep our berries and was not going to give me a ticket. With a wink and a coy smile he said, "The library opens at 10. I think the berries are sweetest first thing in the morning, definitely before 10:00."

Because our local library sits on the park grounds, I inferred that somebody from the library called to report our rogue berry-picking ways. How pathetic that somebody has nothing better to do than file a complaint against a mother and son quietly picking wild berries!

Part of me wanted to go to the library to inquire about a blackberry pie recipe, but I thought better of it.  I already had one run-in with the cops, and I didn't want to risk another because of my sarcasm. Instead, I drove home and baked my contraband berries into a delicious pie. I'm glad that our lawless berry picking didn't land us in the slammer because that certainly would not have relieved Mr. Bill's guilt!