After my tangle with the raspberry canes a month ago, I have finally been able to enjoy the literal fruits of my labor. Because we are having quite a dry summer, the berries are not particularly large--except near the compost pile, where they are double the size of the berries in the rest of the patch. If that doesn't make even the casual observer believe in the value of compost and/or mulch (I have grass clippings piled up about a foot deep on the compost side of the row) I don't know what does. It makes me think that I'm going to do a better job of mulching and feeding these berries now that I've made some kind of order in the patch.

A berry patch is a step-by-step process. I couldn't mulch until I had weeded. I couldn't weed until I--what? Couldn't stand it anymore? Perhaps. Anyway, I think it is so hard, sometimes, to be satisfied with each single step. We want to get to the finish line in one giant leap, instead of in a thousand small steps. But if we leaped, it wouldn't be a race. It would be a jumping event. A race is run, step by tortured step. I can berate myself for having piled compost in the woods when I could have been dumping it in the raspberry patch, or I can take another step and plan to do better in the future. If I really want to get in shape, I can move the piles of leaves from the woods to the raspberry patch. Maybe I will. Have truck, will muck. Let's hope I don't find any salamanders lurking underneath. If I do, I may run a different kind of race.