As I walked around this morning, I noticed the blackberries are ripening. This reminded me of a story that may have been told before, but it is good for me to tell it again.
When Celia and I lived in Cottage Grove from 2000 to 2006, there was a blackberry patch on an undeveloped lot behind our house at the end of Ash Street. Celia would freeze many of the berries, but somewhere she found a recipe for making blackberry wine that involved adding yeast, maybe something else, pouring the contents into old wine bottles that we had accumulated some how, and putting balloons over the openings and placing them in dark areas of the house until the balloons deflated. I don't recall the number of bottles filled, but do remember some turned to vinegar. A year or two past and one summer afternoon we were sitting on the back patio enjoying a nice day. I got to thinking about some of those bottles she had placed in a closets a year or two ago and mentioned it to Celia. We went into the house and found a couple of them. After opening one bottle and tasting it we were impressed with the taste and proceeded to drink it all. After feeling no pain we retreated in to the house and I will leave the rest of the story to your imagination.
Wonder where that recipe is?
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