When I think of my childhood summers in the Pacific Northwest, I remember never-ending days outside, playing make-believe for hours on end, building forts in the woods (this is before we thought we’d get murdered there), scream-running through sprinklers, and roller skating. Lots and lots of roller skating.
And those days always involved foraging and scarfing down fresh fruit. Much of it found on our daily adventures. Blackberries on the side of the road, too tart apples plucked from trees prematurely, big fat blueberries confiscated from a neighbor’s backyard, and buckets of Rainier cherries that we risked life and limb for on our treacherous climbs up thick, scraggly branches. I have such delicious memories, and a nice collection of scars that remind me of a time I was equal parts brave, crazy and a little dumb with youth.
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