Our First Raspberry
This past May, I went with a friend to a plant sale in town. We were having a cold snap in the weather and were shivering as we walked around. I picked up several tomato plants as those I had started from seed seemed to be struggling, but my prized find was a raspberry bush. I say bush, but it was barely more than a twig with a few leaves on it. There it sat in a pale blue pot, calling my name. I have wanted to grow soft fruits for the past few years, but that day I decided to jump in with both feet. What was the worst that could happen? I cradled the pot in my arms and dreamt of all the gorgeous juicy raspberries we would have one day. I was told to wait several weeks before putting it into the ground in order to prevent transplant shock, so each morning I would put my pale blue pot out onto the porch to soak up the sun. Each night I would carry it back in to protect it from a chill. Soon, I planted my raspberry bush in the ground, and after a few weeks it had morphed into two twigs with a half a dozen leaves on them. I had no expectations of any fruit this year, all I wanted it to do was bask in the sun and soak up the nutrients from the soil that surrounded its delicate roots. Two weeks ago, I noticed something white on the bush. Assuming it was some sort of bug, I leaned in for a closer look. To my surprise, it was a tiny, white raspberry. Each day my children and I closely inspected this delicate little gem just waiting for it to mature. At last our first raspberry has grown into a gorgeous fushia berry. Not bad for a bush that isn’t even a foot tall. It may not be much, but I’ve never been so happy to see one little raspberry.