Raspberry picking

Yesterday morning I went outside in the morning cool The grass was wet and the air smelled of that wonderful combination of soil, plants, and a touch of summer heat. The raspberry bushes were beckoning. This is my third summer in my Gillette home, and these bushes have been an unexpected summer treasure. I've had multiple picking crops this summer, and this morning picking was near perfect -- fruit just the right size and color, cooled by the night, and rinsed clean by the rain. I don't know if the pleasure was all in the moment or in the memories picking fruit brings to me.
I recall the misery of childhood picking gooseberries and chokecherries with grandma. The silent drudgery of working in the hot sun. Still I took my own children on lots of chokecherry picking trips, because by then I was making my own jelly, and they loved that sweet treat. I don't remember those trips as being a punishment, but more of a raucous competition to see who can pick the most cherries. I do remember that August heat, hot kitchen cooking, lots of flies, and the steadfast determination that I would make jelly, can corn, beans and peas, peel and freeze apples. It sounds almost pioneer like, but you and I know it was nothing like the pioneer effort. If I ran out of homemade, I could always go to the store and buy a can.

So what is the lesson of raspberry picking? Honest labor. Success with a tough task. Preparation for winter.
Are these the traits that carry into my library world? Where is public service? Technology? Well, they could be there too. Isn't public service a form of care taking? Looking out for the future. Isn't technology a form of improving methods, changing methods? Are these traits I bring from learning and changing from childhood? Maybe. Or maybe those darn raspberries have carried me into a world of nostalgia, and I best escape and get back to work.