I have fun memories of picking wild blackberries when I was a kid. We lived down a dirt road that had bushes on either side. We’d comb the banks and come home with our haul and dump it on cold store-brand vanilla ice cream and devour the dish.
After finishing dessert, our mom would yell at us to jump in the bath and not forget the gallon jug of white vinegar. I’d stand in the bath, washing off with vinegar, trying to neutralize the hundreds of chiggers’ bites that I had sustained while wading into the blackberry bushes.
The taste of wild blackberries.
The smell of white vinegar.
Enjoy the 4th.
Don’t lose a finger or an eyebrow, but if you have to lose one, make it the eyebrow.