The other day, I was thinking about the bramble of blackberries we had down at the end of our street when I was growing up. At that time, there was my parents' house and maybe three other houses on the street. At the end of the street was open farmland full of wildflowers and wild blackberry thickets. The berries were so tiny that I don't think we did anything with them except pop them in our mouths for a sweet summertime treat.
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