Rasperries

This post reminded me of my home in Alaska. The experience you had with your neighbors and the fruit reminded me of my back-door-neighbors Chase and Ryder who would poke their hands through the knot in the wood of our fence asking for raspberries. The raspberry bush lined our back fence, offering its fruit during the better part of the year. We would give the two boys a handful of berries from the bottom of the bush: the part where my dog likes to relieve itself. 

Lots of my childhood memories involve those seedy berries. Sitting on top of my yellow plastic slide with my friends, sliding the berries down into my dog’s mouth is among one of my favorite memories. Only a few of the berries would venture into our own traps. We would smear the red juice of the berry on our faces and run into the house, fall down dramatically, and pretend a moose kicked us in the face. During the fall we would put the surplus in Ziploc baggies (our Alaskan white trash version of canning) and save them. After a great snow we would throw our snow suites and run out side with a large bowl, skimming the fresh flakes with the lip of the bowl in order to collect the perfect snow. Heading back inside, the bag of berries along with some vanilla would be hauled out and folded into the snow. Eskimo ice cream.

In relation to math I believe that this post is meant to tell us to try new things, to keep an open mind. I have never really connected to math on the level that I have connected to History or Science. But just like canning peaches, one can learn to accept or even love something they once didn't give a second thought.