Caught in raspberry hell.

Well folks I never thought I’d think it but, “I’m sick and tired of red raspberries.”  It is now out in the open.  I have been picking berries for three weeks.  I have been fighting Japanese beetles for three weeks.  My fingers have little teeny, tiny stickers in them and if you hit it just right it feels like I have a telephone pole splinter.

I’m standing in the middle of the patch with my little ice cream bucket of soapy hot water raking scads of Japanese beetles into the bubbles.  Their little screams relieve my prickled fingers.  I leave them overnight and then dump them in the lot next door.  (The lot next door should be my next blog.)

After the beetle battle I start picking berries.  The ones at the south of the patch are not as nice as the ones at the north so I pick them first.  That way when I am just about pooped out from the heat and sweat and prickles, I see a bunch of really nice big berries and I know I just have to pick those.  I try to save them for the in-laws.

The berries came from the hubster’s Grandmother who lived in LaSalle.  She grew the most wonderful red raspberries and I fell in love with them.  When she realized that I was a gardener (and still am) she insisted that I had to have red raspberry plants.  I knew nothing about them.  My father grew black raspberries but never taught me anything about gardening.  I had to learn it by myself

I found a brochure from the Department of Natural Resources about growing raspberries and I read it time after time.  I still refer to it before I trim and thin my berry patch.

Yesterday’s pick was about a pint which is what I got for the first week and am getting for the last week.  I have made raspberry jam, jelly, sauce, vinegar and a vinegar sauce that I was not impressed by.  We have had raspberry shortcake and raspberries with Breyer’s Vanilla Ice Cream.  I haven’t made raspberry pancakes yet but my friend, Naomi, has.  The in-laws prefer butter pecan ice cream with the raspberry sauce.

I am facing going out to the beetle battle and the raspberry pick.  Of course, I’d rather sit here and write about it.

Daughter, Addi, sent me this photo once.  Today I send it back to her.  (BTW, she hardly ever reads my blog so she will never see it.)