Blackberry Summer

In July, we did this.  

Probably about 4 gallons of blackberries there, picked in about an hour.

Yep.  That's how awesome that blackberry patch is.
(Lots of pretty little jars of blackberry jam and a couple of cobblers from this picking.)

I posted this picture on facebook, and everyone wanted blackberries!  But I couldn't help anyone out, because these aren't from my patch.  I don't have a patch.

Didn't.

Do now.  Or at least we have the beginnings of one.

Jenny had the space out on her sweet little farm, she has parents with blackberry expertise, and parents who were willing to give us starts off of their blackberries.

I had enthusiasm.

Saturday (because we had time and because the Farmer's Almanac and Jenny's dad said it was the right phase of the moon) with the help of our husbands, we did this:

We plotted out two nice straight rows (far enough apart to mow between) then dug holes 36" apart.
We filled in those holes with some dry sweet corn shucks and sand.

Because we both hate to weed, we covered the sand mounds with landscape fabric,

which Jenny's dad later told us was a mistake, because we want the vines to fill in between the holes.  So we peeled back the fabric between the holes so that the vines can spread.  

Then we loaded up and went to gather blackberry plants, which was a huge job, and made us glad we married strong men who don't complain at their wives' schemes.  Much.

Here's a nice little row.  Isn't that beautiful?    

Jenny's dad says the key to good blackberries is lots of sand and lots of dry matter.  So we piled on lots of sand from his sand farm.  Which is a whole other interesting story.

We helped Brian put in the fence posts and wire supports, had a beer, a nice supper and a good night's sleep.
Dreaming of blackberries next summer . . .

Peace.