|Bike fuel: Rubus armeniacus|
For a brief week or two each spring, we harvest a few bowls of black berries from old canes in our backyard. I take it that conditions in Phoenix are not at the center of the climate conditions favored by these berries, in fact, it appears that they have to struggle to survive summer's blasting heat--Oregon, or Illinois woods, are two places I have seen them grow like weeds. But they do survive here, and bear fruit, and it seems to me end up producing a sweet, complex, and delicate berry that bears witness to the difficulties endured to produce it. I have put up some epic berry posts in the past--the two from the trip to Iowa City still make my tummy grumble happy sounds--but this simple bowl of seedy black is all I need.
These don't travel well, they don't even store well. We pick them and eat them the same day, or possibly the next, before their fresh magic turns to mush. I had them on cereal today. But, to me, they are best on their own, as in this hastily taken photo. I was in haste to eat them, you see, so didn't give it that photo studio treatment. Oh, and the bees love their flowers, and I love the bees, so it all works out well. But, even now, to pick them in the morning is to pick warm berries heated by our ever-enthusiastic desert sunshine. Either way, they don't last long. A day, maybe two or three at most. I better go check now. Get up. Go ride.