Those that are not yet ripe are white, pink or red. But there are others that are fully black and ripe for the picking.
Growing next to the barbed wire fence, the blackberries also have their own barbs or thorns to protect them.
They grow hidden among other foliage.
Wood sage and poison ivy surround them.
Other animals also covet the blackberries as they ripen. Listen to the birds sing about them.
Last night, I picked the first blackberries of the season. I washed them and presented them to Bow this morning on an heirloom glass plate that I inherited from my grandmother.
The blackberries were all black, but some were more luscious than others.
I thought they looked splendid on the glass plate.
A small residue of water from washing the blackberries remained on the plate. I presented them to Bow.
Apparently, some blackberries are better than others. Bow chose the pick of the crop, then left me the rest. Notice, though, how gentle he was with my grandmother's plate!