Yes, we had plenty of rain. Yes, we had enough coolish nights (for here anyway). But we also had The Birds, who ate all but a dozen blackberries off my berry bush this year.
Three weeks weeks ago, the bush was full of red, unripe blackberries, and I was already planning my jam, pie, and tart. Then, over the next 10 days or so, more berries disappeared every morning, courtesy of the sparrows (and maybe some squirrels). The bush was picked clean by the beginning of last week.
Next year, deer netting. My only consolation? That the neighborhood has a chance, courtesy of the birds and the seeds they didn’t digest, for a blackberry bush explosion.
One of the most common questions I get: “Don’t you want to make wine and be a winemaker?” The answer, of course, is no. Winemaking not only involves more stooping than writing, but the hours are worse and you have to put up with wine writers. Talk about thankless.