ME, PICK ME

Me, me, me, pick me.  Me next.  Come on, pick me.  I'm ready.  Pleeeze.

Aren't they precious?  They all want to be picked.  I keep telling them, "When you're ready."

They just don't understand.  They have to be big and black, otherwise I can't take them.  Not yet, anyway.

Don't forget where I am, they seem to be saying.  I'll be ready by this afternoon.  Come back and pick me.

You got to love them.  So eager.  So full of the juice of life.  So tasty.

The black raspberries in my garden are about to drive me crazy with their pleas.  I can only take the ripest ones each day, and some days not all of them.  My cup runneth over this morning and I had to stop picking.  I'll got back this evening, and I know that some I passed over this morning will spend the day getting darker so they can be picked this evening.  I really enjoy making them happy.

And tomorrow morning on my breakfast cereal they will make me happy.  Don't you just love it when you can be in harmony with nature?