To begin with, let me tell you a “very berry” episode. Feeling more confident than ever, I took a small bucket and went out to pick blackberries along the road, especially near the water where the berry bushes get a lot of moisture. I felt proud that I did not get a single scratch from the thorns, not like the time I stepped into a blackberry bush and, not realizing that there was a small hole in front of me, I fell into the berry patch, getting entangled in the vines. I could not get up and I did not have my phone on me to call for help. As fortune would have it, the bucket saved me, for I was able to lean on it and gradually I tore myself out of the thorny patch, all covered in bleeding arms. In fact, some of the scars remain with me to this very day. After picking half a bucket full of berries, I next went to the berry bushes that were planted for us near the cottage, but most of them had been gathered a couple of days ago. The door to the little building that once housed the candle factory was open, so I proceeded to shut it firmly and, as I did that, the bucket fell out of my hand. I refused to be defeated and so I crouched down and picked up every single berry. In the end, the berries were eaten with great pleasure.