Maudie Goes Blackberry Picking

[Andre DeCuir]

     Maudie knew she would have to pick the blackberries now that Mama had slipped on the mop water she threw

on the porch steps and busted up her ankle.   Mama wanted her to take little  Taylor with her,   the 8-year-old

Maudie sometimes babysat, and to her,  he never seemed to stop talking.  Sure enough, he chattered all the way to

the old house which scared Maudie, but that 's where the best blackberries grew, as big a man's thumbnail, so

plump and purple they could at the slightest touch bleed all over your fingertips.  Of course, Taylor had to

scamper into the house which was surprisingly dark Maudie thought as if the sun in all its brilliance outside could

not direct its rays through the gaping holes which maybe once held panes of glass. When Taylor pointed to a

twisted tube, like a deflated balloon, with hay sticking to it, and asked what it was, Maudie held his hand and said,

" Nothing, let's go. " They nestled themselves in the tall grass and vines around the house and crammed handfuls

of blackberries into their mouths, smiling, showing off purple tongues.

[Gita]

A bit scary and a bit idyllic at the same time. Your description of the blackberries themselves is just excellent: as big a man's thumbnail, so plump and purple they could at the slightest touch bleed all over your fingertips.

 

[Angela]

I love the folksy dreamy quality of this, and the way it is intruded upon.  Also, I like the way Maudie goes from child to adult and back again.