sunday we picked blackberries. in lovely lagunitas at the roadside. i kept yelping out as we drove up toward the lighthouse on all the winding roads, blackberries! aagh! so many! we walked three hundred stairs down a cliffside and considered the loneliness of lighthousekeepers. we made a pact to cease participating in the cow industry. on the drive back home we deviated from the main road to fill a square container with blackberries. he'd never picked blackberries before, can you believe that? i swear i spent weeks picking berries as a kid. woods versus suburbs, i suppose, leads to a different set of summer practices. berrypicking, lakeswimming, having to water the garden; pools, skateboards, mischief. the berries we picked and washed stained a papertowel canvas with bright explosions of purple and fuschia. we are both big dorks for unintentional art that could be garbage and the stained papertowels will probably end up in a frame. on the wall of our someday-kitchen, if they're lucky.