Two weekends ago, I took Mary Robinette Kowal’s Short Story Intensive class. During an afternoon break, I sneaked out to the wild red raspberry canes that grow along the woods that border the cemetery, and came home with these beauties. They were still hot from the sun, and so fragrant and tasty! I threw most into yogurt and had them as a lovely snack. Yum!
This past weekend, hubby and I packed up and went to a nearby park. Inside, on one of the more rarely used footpaths, we scored with wild blueberries! They were thick in spots, and we had a great time picking. At home, some went immediately into blueberry pancakes, and more are hanging around, waiting to end up in yogurt, or in scones, or just eaten plain.
The act of picking berries, for me at least, is very meditative. My active mind slows down, and I simply spot and pluck ripe berries. My subconscious is free to wander and ponder during this time. When I come back to writing after these breaks, I feel refreshed. If my writing was getting stodgy, it feels crisp and focused again. And if I was feeling used up and bored with writing (yes, it does happen!), after these mini-breaks, I feel rejuvenated and am re-energized to write more, to try again. And after last week’s heatwave (one day registered 96°F at 10:30 am–yuck!!!), that’s a real treat.
If you have any “rekindling the flames for writing” tricks, feel free to share.
Everyday Magic | M. E. Garber 
My problem with picking raspberries is that I want to eat each one that I pick. I have a similar zen state to you in the act of picking, but it’s frequently broken by how tart the thing in my hands is.
I understand. After all, I never said these were _all_ the berries. :-).
Wow, nice finds! I’ve been meaning to grow some berries in our garden.
Growing berries in the garden is wonderful, but I’m totally addicted to “wild and free” fruits. My inner country girl, perhaps? Picking wild foods makes me feel wonderfully deviant…