I don't want to miss a thing

Blackberry Pickin’

Last time I wrote about this subject was in High School AP English class,

I did not get a very good grade on that paper, but at least I did pass,

I had a dreaded fragmented sentence in my assigned essay,

Which was an automatic “F” for grammar, a big price to pay,

Also, I misspelled the word “hollow”, which I’ll never forget,

It is amazing what an “F” will cause you to regret,

I remember Mrs. Whatley gave me no confidence at all,

She said I couldn’t pass the AP exam, which made me feel small,

But I showed her, and I did pass the state AP exam,

Just look at me now… I’m writing, I am!

Now back to the story I wanted to tell,

Of picking blackberries into an old tin pail,

Mamaw  L and I wore long-sleeved shirts, overalls, large-brimmed hats, in the middle of July!

I was confused by this selection, but soon found out why,

We went to the field, through the gate, past the barn and cow dung,

Down into the hollow, where loads of ripe. juicy blackberries hung,

The field was infested with prickly thistles and briars of all kind,

But it was worth the treacherous walk for the loot we would find,

Large, black berries were there just for the taking,

The vines were also thorny and a little painstaking,

But we persevered and picked until our fingers were stained blue,

The pails grew heavy and that’s when we knew,

It was time to head back to the house- climb the big hill,

We did sample the blackberries; oh, we had our fill,

The blackberries were promptly made into jam,

Which was great on a buttery biscuit with a piece of country ham,

This memory is vivid, and I was in my early teens,

I still feel the heat of July and briars stuck to my jeans,

The perspiration that rolled off my Mam-maw’s face that day,

And my Pap-Paw’s red kerchief that she used to wipe it away,

For my own grandchildren, I only hope I can make memories like this,

There are so many things I don’t want them to miss!

Tammy Harvey

Written:  September 6, 2017