If you were ever wondering when the best time to buy blackberries is, that day is today! Here is my scientific evidence.
Fact #1: They are HUGE.
Opinion #1.1: They are great as an ingredient, but not great as decoration because they make the plate look oddly disproportional.
Opinion #1.2: It is much easier to eat an entire carton because there are only like 8 berries in a carton due to their size. When have I ever needed an excuse to eat an entire carton of berries though?
Fact #2: They are all juice and beautifully sweet.
Opinion #2.1: They are excellent in smoothies or jams or anything you need juice for...
Opinion #2.2: If you freeze them, and put them frozen into water, they make water even MORE refreshing. This will become relevant to my life if it ever warms up in Minnesota.
Fact #3: They are on sale at virtually every grocery store.....
Opinion #3.1: ... and if they are not on sale, you need to find a new grocery store to shop at.
Opinion #3.2: If you are planning on buying blackberries for a recipe, you'll need to double or triple the amount you buy. If you are anything like me, you will burn through a few cartons before getting down to business. I meant to make a blackberry dessert but oops, I just devoured the entire carton as I'm typing this post.
The blackbird part seems irrelevant to my delectable berry discussion, but I had my recurring blackbird dream last night. The dream is terrifying. In high school, I wrote a short story about it at 2am one morning because I had woken up from the nightmare with the vivid thoughts still bouncing around in my mind. Anyway... Blackberry. Blackbird. You see the literary gem here, right?
I had a similar experience this morning. Here's my 4am sketch and my 4:39am poem.
"Untitled poem of a young blackbird"
Desperate, confused, alone.
She cries "help".
"Wait for me,
I'll help you escape."
She screeches and halts.
The threshold is occupied.
He is all dark.
Black innocence flees black mystery.
"You've got to help her."
He flickers with aphotic movement.
He is quick, obscure, confident.
She chirps in his hand.
Dark eyes glower.
Her head artlessly angled,
her last chirp is withdrawn.
I stare into the night.
Is this the freedom
she sang for?