The blackberries, that really are the owners of our property, are starting to strut their stuff. The upcoming crop is looking totally outrageous. This wild and crazy plant is once again going to bring a cascade of abundance down upon us. Maybe we will have some guests here this summer to help us pick them.

But it was in February of this year that we had the big heavy snow and everything was crushed including the blackberry brambles. Things looked bleak for them but hark, look at them now. This plant just screams resilience! Cancer patients need to study this. What do they have that we could learn. It is a gnarly nasty plant by suburban landscape standards, way too unruly for the lot. But out here at the ranch it owns the land in between the forest and the pasture.

I know I curse them continuously, true, true, true. We compete for square footage. I hack and I burn and I sweat and I curse. Maybe some of their orneriness has worn off on me. You think?

Otherwise on Vashon Island there is the annual Strawberry Festival this weekend. There will be a parade and venders and dances. Thousands of folks from the mainland will descend to partake. I will be hiding out here pondering blackberries and resiliency. None of that wimpy strawberry stuff for me.

None of those wimpy strawberry loves, Felipé.