This post should probably be made by Michaela, my berry picking, cheese-loving friend. Here's a self-portrait she took that I found on my camera.
Michaela was determined not to let a single ripe berry go unpicked last week when she and Theresa were at our house. The black raspberries are coming on nicely of late. We all went out picking with high hopes. Kent and I picked our way into the heart of the berry tangles. He's just tough, but I have what I call my "Haz-Berry Suit". I start with jeans, boots and a t-shirt. I layer it with a long denim apron that I made out of an old pair of overalls. To that I add a heavy, wool flannel, long-sleeved shirt. I put a hat on and I'm ready to go. The brambles cannot hurt me very badly when I'm dressed in my Haz-Berry suit!
Theresa, on the other hand, had too much exposed skin. So we assigned her to the perimeters. I still heard a good many yelps from her direction.
I may look silly but I'm unstoppable.
That looks like an ouchy-thorny face to me...
And our high hopes were rewarded! We had enough berries for pie! There was much rejoicing.
Michaela wasn't satisfied, though, until we whipped up some cream I had in the fridge and she decorated it with swirls. It was a complete success.