Blackberry winter

I think everyone in Appalachia knows the term -- when the black- berries bloom, and the weather loses its spring glow to grow cold, gray and dank again.

It's the last vestige of a dismal season, and despite the daisy-strewn meadows it's quite a shock after a few beautiful weeks of warmth.

There is consolation, though: Each of those little snowdrops in the hedge will, given a nice, warm summer, turn into deep purple tastes of heaven. Maybe I'll make jam again this year.