I've been watching those thimbleberry bushes from early spring, when they were mere stalks and just sprouting greenery, to June when the bushes were waist -high and topped with white-petaled flowers, to now, in early August, with the first berries turning soft and red.
Last Saturday, along a section of Pilgrim River, for a stream monitoring workshop, we were walking through the brush on a narrow trail, amidst lush thimbleberry bushes, not quite ripe. There were signs posted, handwritten, saying "Trespassing" "No Berry Picking". So the group of us, Trout Unlimited types, were there to learn stream monitoring, but I thought about thimbleberry jam as I walked along, Just about time to start pickin', I said to myself...
Yesterday, in the midst of preparations to go over to Pictured Rocks for guiding a trip for a long weekend, I couldn't stop myself. I grabbed a can and went out to our thimbleberry patch for a quick picking of first-fruits of the season.
The fruit stood out red among the greenery. There was generally one red thimble among half a dozen pale pink unripe berries. The rich forest loam smell at dusk was rising around me. A distant hermit thrush was piping out the day. The blush of crimson on my finger tips and raspberry richness from those ripe fruits were filling my senses. I picked the tender thimbles steadily over just a few minutes that stretched into nearly an hour, until the ebbing light made the red turn to darkness.
At home I vacuum bagged the precious fruit and put it in the freezer for combining with later harvests of thimbleberries. Much more is yet to come...
Last Saturday, along a section of Pilgrim River, for a stream monitoring workshop, we were walking through the brush on a narrow trail, amidst lush thimbleberry bushes, not quite ripe. There were signs posted, handwritten, saying "Trespassing" "No Berry Picking". So the group of us, Trout Unlimited types, were there to learn stream monitoring, but I thought about thimbleberry jam as I walked along, Just about time to start pickin', I said to myself...
Yesterday, in the midst of preparations to go over to Pictured Rocks for guiding a trip for a long weekend, I couldn't stop myself. I grabbed a can and went out to our thimbleberry patch for a quick picking of first-fruits of the season.
The fruit stood out red among the greenery. There was generally one red thimble among half a dozen pale pink unripe berries. The rich forest loam smell at dusk was rising around me. A distant hermit thrush was piping out the day. The blush of crimson on my finger tips and raspberry richness from those ripe fruits were filling my senses. I picked the tender thimbles steadily over just a few minutes that stretched into nearly an hour, until the ebbing light made the red turn to darkness.
At home I vacuum bagged the precious fruit and put it in the freezer for combining with later harvests of thimbleberries. Much more is yet to come...
2 comments:
I'm a thimbleberry fan myself and have been telling myself I need to get out on the trails where I know they are. Especially since it's not out east. Range maps show it in MA but nowhere in between--I've never seen it out there in the areas I've visited. Time for a hike tomorrow.
Beautifully written! I just happened upon this dandy gem of a berry in our neck of the woods (Western WA)
I'd never foraged or eaten these delightful berries before. I happened upon your blog in my research of Thimbleberries. I admit to the smallest envy at the amount you were able to pick... I hope we can get enough to freeze for some berry joy over the winter.
:)
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