Chris Writing Anything

Which food, when you eat it, instantly transports you to childhood?

Today, housework and storytelling are on my mind. Because of that, and a few other things, I’m not going to give this post a lot of time. Don’t get me wrong, and one might think so, but it’s not that I don’t care. It’s just that I heaped a ton of delicious tasks upon my plate. And since we’re talking about food, the type that reminds me of my childhood, that delectable fruit being raspberries, I’ll get to the meat, or in this case, fruit, of this post.

When I was young, our brick farmhouse, along with a barn and a few smaller sheds, resided on an acre of grass. Of course, surrounding the grass was eight acres of farmland. But, as you can imagine, with an acre to work with, we had a fairly big garden. It came complete with a strawberry patch and two rows of raspberry bushes.

When I was young, and when the time was right, my sisters and I were tasked with picking those fruits. We’d grab our old one gallon ice cream buckets, I’m thinking of the ones you find at the grocery store, and we’d pull those juicy red morsels from the bushes.

Of course, when plucking raspberries from the thick, prickly bushes, we’d miss some fruit. And many we had picked, well, yeah, we’d whip ‘em at each other. Yet, for the most part, at the end of the day, our pails would be heaping full.

But even though we put a ton in the pail, as I remember that tangy acidic berry, just as many wound up in my tummy. One would think, and it’d be an excellent supposition, that I’d get sick of them. That’s a huge falsehood, every time I see them at the grocery store, I smile. I’ll also check the price. If I can afford it, yes, I’ll definitely buy a carton.

So, there’s my answer, I love raspberries. The reason why? It reminds me of my childhood, which was a blissful time, and, as I recall venturing that burgeoning garden, my biggest trouble was that fuzzy bee menacingly buzzing about.

Have an excellent day!