In our childhood, my brothers and I had a penchant for running rampant through the verdant woods at our grandparents’ house. Our grandfather had cleared a winding network of paths, which were perennially overgrown. Somehow, it was all the more delightful having to push through the branches and tangled vines to get to the raspberry and blackberry bushes at the back of the property.
The bushes grew untended and, if we didn’t mind the way there, we gained the enjoyment of an abundance of berries ripe for the picking during our summer visits.
