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0 of 3 Premium Clicks used this month SUBSCRIBE Print + Online Subscriber Activation | Register x Forgot Password | Need an Account? e-edition | subscribe | newsletter | deals Classifieds Jobs Autos Real Estate FEATURED » NEWS NOW Crank shooting call likely a case of 'SWAT-ing,' Medford police say ... Suspected car thief found asleep in stolen vehicle in Ashland ... Cooking oil fire damages SOU-owned house, displaces two ... Crank shooting call likely a case of 'SWAT-ing,' Medford police say ... Suspected car thief found asleep in stolen vehicle in Ashland ... Cooking oil fire damages SOU-owned house, displaces two ... SOUTHERN OREGON JOURNAL Southern Oregon Journal: Ode to Aunt Georgia Comment By Peggy Dover for the Mail Tribune MailTribune.com By Peggy Dover for the Mail Tribune Posted Aug. 16, 2015 at 12:01 AM By Peggy Dover for the Mail Tribune Posted Aug. 16, 2015 at 12:01 AM » Social News Yesterday I picked blackberries on my aunt's and uncle’s country place. The vine-mounds are experienced there and trained but dangerous like an old circus lion. Nourished by a winning combination of regular irrigation and nature’s fertilizer from the cows that call those hills home, the fruit was ripe at last. In fact, a bumper crop awaited. My Aunt Georgia was a fearless berry picker. I thought of her and what she would say if she knew I was planning to write about her rich legacy in the blackberry patch. There’s a favorite photo of her leaning against my printer, watching and smiling as if to say, “Don’t you have anything better to do, Peg?” with a chuckle to follow. If she were here, she would acquiesce to the hug I could use right now. I missed her being there to see that I was properly outfitted for the task. I heard her voice sending me off, blessing my quest. Two pals joined me to share the wealth and generosity of my uncle and Cousin Tom, who positioned a ladder to the star performers at the top of one clump. Lynn and Linda (I’m currently soliciting friends whose names begin with something other than the letter L) joined me with buckets in hand — Lynn remembering her snow-white, muck-suitable tennis shoes and Linda, her soft, pink gardening gloves. I suspected I had the advantage with a combo of Aunt Georgia’s magic bucket and Tom’s gnarly, leather glove for my left hand. But this wasn’t a competition. I lifted the orange sisal cord around my neck, the empty bucket, ironically, having held Georgia-Pacific ready-mix joint compound, and I thought I saw several berries shudder. My aunt was a no-nonsense picker who waded into battle against grabbing brambles purely for the success of the harvest. Her uniform consisted of this same bucket around her neck, straw hat, muck boots, grubby jeans, a left-hand leather gauntlet for pushing back vines while picking with her right, and sometimes Uncle Dick’s leather WWII flight jacket. After decades of rustling among thorns, it looked much worse for the wear, as though it had seen even more action after its robust days in the cockpit of a B-29. I was grateful for the clouds, humidity notwithstanding, soft cricket chirps, and the good company of comrades equal to the task. The clump I picked was so packed with blackberry goodness, I pushed into the thick of it, never moving more than a foot or two, until my bucket filled with the best berries I’d ever tasted. We laughed and talked to the soft thud of berries hitting the buckets until we all had our fill. I didn’t consider myself entirely worthy without sacrificing a bit of flesh in return. It’s a picker’s due, after all. I nearly finished unscathed then, sure enough, shortly before topping off the bucket that made my neck ache, one long and thorny bugger reached out and gave me a two-inch stripe on my arm. I’d shed blood for the conquest. And when I forked into the pie still warm from the oven last night, I closed my eyes, thought it must be heaven, and considered the wound small payment. Let newbie pickers beware — wild blackberry picking is not for the faint of heart. It is for the valiant and prepared, like my Aunt Georgia Ruth and me. Peggy Dover is a freelance writer living in Eagle Point. Reach her at [email protected] and visit her Facebook page at Peggy Dover-writer. By Peggy Dover for the Mail Tribune MailTribune.com By Peggy Dover for the Mail Tribune Posted Aug. 16, 2015 at 12:01 AM » Comment or view comments Reader Reaction » STAY INFORMED Email NewsLetter Sign Up Today Sign up for our newsletter and have the top headlines from your community delivered right to your inbox. Southern Oregon Directory Featured Businesses Loading... 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