Relative Something

You would be wrong if you thought the only thing we harvest at Wintervale is hay. Although, you gotta love that hay is one of our big crops, when our last name is, “Hays.” Of course, you may also be remembering that our horses produce an impressive amount of fertilizer, but as much as I boast about our compost pile, it will be a long time before we will be making any money off that.

The lesser known crop we have here, and the one with probably the best potential of becoming a future money-maker, is black raspberries. When Cyndie cans them as “blackcap” jam, they turn into liquid gold.

The wild bushes we have all over the place sprout a surprising amount of fruit in a short amount of time, often overnight. Cyndie has gotten in the habit of bringing a container along when she takes Delilah for walks, because new fruit seems to burst forth in places we didn’t even realize had the potential.

There is something special about the jam these berries produce. Their tantalizing aroma is almost as satisfying as the taste. If you already know and love that flavor, one whiff of the smell will trigger the irrepressible urge to consume.

We had no patience once the berries appeared, and Cyndie cooked up the first small batch she picked, to create a topping for waffles. A little local maple syrup over the top and we had our taste buds doing flips of joy over their good fortune.

This year, when conditions have been miserable for a lot of things, the raspberry plants seem to be doing quite well.

We’ve got a year’s supply of hay stacked in the hay shed, but I don’t think we’ll ever be able to stock enough of her blackcap jam. It’s just too irresistible.

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