Blackberries have always been my favorite fruit, but when I was a child, blackberry picking was a summer ritual that I absolutely hated. We donned our long-sleeved shirts and long pants, to avoid as many scratches from the prickly vines as possible. That alone was torture on a hot August day. And then out would come the pails, which were coffee tins with holes drilled on two sides with wire handles. There was one for each of us, and our goal was to fill them to the brim. We would journey to some out-of-the-way spot, I remember that Chennault Beach was a particularly good one, and start picking. The berries grew up a gently sloping hill, so up we climbed. It wasn't enough to just get the berries on the outer edges of the bushes - climbing in amongst them was necessary to get each and every little black morsel in our buckets. Dodging the blackberry vines was the least of the dangers - stepping in a rabbit hole was the worst thing that could happen! Spending the rest of the day with a tennis shoe full of dirt was not pleasant, and the thought of stepping on a bunny was even more terrifying. I really hated getting my hands dirty, and as the day progressed, the berry juice combined with the dust that we seemed to kick up as we traipsed through the bushes, turned into what looked like a permanent stain. I hated the feel of it, and couldn't wait to get home and wash my hands with Lava soap!

It was all worth it in the end. When we got home, Mom would gently transfer the berries from our pails into a big Tupperware bowl, pick out the leaves and twigs, rinse them well, and they were ready to be transformed into luscious treats. A blackberry pie would definitely be on the menu soon, with a scoop of vanilla ice cream, of course, but the very best thing to come from the blackberry picking experience was Dad's blackberry pancakes. My dad typically didn't spend a lot of time behind the kitchen stove. His only cooking skills involved grilling chicken or steaks in the backyard, but during blackberry season his griddle expertise shone through. His pancakes were so delicate and full of juicy berries that all they required was a pat of butter and sprinkling of sugar.

I have to admit that my fingers had not touched a blackberry bush for fifty years or more until I visited Margie last summer and helped her glean the last few berries from the vines behind her house. They became a scrumptious cobbler, which brought back so many wonderful memories. When we discovered the massive amounts of berry bushes behind our motor home this summer, I was thrilled. Sylvia must have felt somewhat the same when she wrote this poem:

Blackberrying

By Sylvia Plath

Nobody in the lane, and nothing, nothing but blackberries,

Blackberries on either side, though on the right mainly,

A blackberry alley, going down in hooks, and a sea

Somewhere at the end of it, heaving. Blackberries

Big as the ball of my thumb, and dumb as eyes

Ebon in the hedges, fat

With blue-red juices. These they squander on my fingers.

I had not asked for such a blood sisterhood; they must love me.

They accommodate themselves to my milkbottle, flattening their sides.

Yesterday Larry and I picked enough of the very first ones to ripen to make a cobbler in the crockpot...

We did not crawl into the bushes, however, although there were some gems to be found there!

and there are still a lot waiting to ripen!

Since we don't have much room in our refrigerator, we only picked enough for the cobbler.

I found a recipe online at crockpotladies.com

Crock-Pot Blackberry Cobbler

Ingredients

Fruit

4 Cups fresh or frozen blackberries

1/2 Cup granulated sugar

2 Tablespoons corn starch

Cobbler Topping

2 Cups All-purpose flour

1/2 Cup granulated sugar (or sugar substitute such as Splenda)

1/4 Cup Butter, melted

1/4 Cup milk

1 teaspoon baking powder

Pinch of salt

Instructions

In the bottom of a 4 – 6 quart crock-pot pour the berries, 1/2 cup sugar and cornstarch and toss lightly to coat the berries with the sugar and cornstarch.
In a medium bowl mix the cobbler ingredients – flour, sugar, melted butter, milk, baking powder and pinch of salt until a soft dough forms.
Dot the top of the fruit in the slow cooker with spoonfuls of cobbler dough, making sure to keep the dough off the side of the crock.
Cover and cook on HIGH for 4 hours or until the fruit is bubbly and the dough is is cooked through.
Serve plain, with ice cream or whipped cream and enjoy!

I had to make a quick trip to Albertson's for more sugar and cornstarch...

I love this little crockpot! It's just the right size for the two of us.

Whenever I'm adding milk to a batter, I can't help but sing the song from Maurice Sendak's "In The Night Kitchen," one of Matt's favorite books when he was very little....