February - It must be Blackberry time!

When I was younger it was always one of the delights of summer - blackberry picking. The essential tools were gumboots, a big pot and sunhat. And then it was off to the 'secret' location. Not really secret though because you had to get there quickly to get the best of the crop. It was family affair - Dad drove the boat to the 'secret' location at the lakes and then Mum and the kids trooped off into the blackberry laden undergrowth to pick and eat as much as we could. The result was always a blackberry pie that took on all challengers and pots and pots and pots of blackberry jam all sealed with waxed lids. The sweet. syrupy smell of blackberries filled the house for weeks.

Then in latter times the Councils and local government officials have seen it as a dereliction of duty if they don't eradicate every blackberry bush in New Zealand. Gone was that childhood delight. Well, almost.

Imagine my joy when, on one of my many dog-taming walks with Jack, I came across a relatively large blackberry patch that was easily accessible - the only obstacle in my way was an electric fence. Nothing rubber soled shoes wouldn't fix. I thought I was the happiest person in the world to find it - I completely forgot about my girlfriend Julie. She goes into a psychotic state at the mention of blackberry picking. It's actually a little scary to be around. She came to visit this weekend for the Mission Concert. I happened to mention that I had found a blackberry patch down the road and the weekend took on new meaning.

It was almost like an untreated obsession. We had to go NOW. We had to take picking gear - NOW. When would we be going? NOW? I was actually very worried for my well-being because I wasn't sure there would be anything of note given the weather we have had recently. As we neared the patch, she dressed in a white singlet and casual pants (not really 'de rigeur' blackberry clothing) I kept on talking down the prospects, talking about the weather, talking about anything to try and calm the mad-woman gleam in her eyes. Didn't deter her at all and - thank God - there were blackberries EVERYWHERE.

She was off. Little conversation - just squeals of joy every now and again. We gathered enough for a pie - a huge pie - and then it was a determined mission to get the requisite sweet pastry and cream. We were allowed to stop for a brief lunch at a winery and then it was onto baking and testing the product. Not satisfied that we hadn't stripped the patch, we were back for another session while the pie was cooking. All I can say is that it is good this is her addiction because given her commitment to this obsession she would excel at any other addiction.

The blackberries have been lovingly washed and prepared for their journey back to Auckland for the next pie.

She'll be back next year she tells me, not for Mission Weekend but for blackberries.

THE BEST.....the absolute relief at finding blackberries

THE WORST.....not being allowed to leave until we had more than enough blackberries for the entire village.

I'M LEARNING.....don't mess with an addict. Not even scratches, prickles and the odd shock from the electric fence could deter the frenzied picking.