I'm finding it hard not to become a cynical, grumpy old lady. Everywhere I turn, people seem impossibly stupid, selfish, and/or mean. It seems so hopeless. Once again I feel understanding for the hermit living alone with her dogs.
I don't mean to belittle my friends, who are wonderful. It's just that sometimes the rest of the world (R.O.W. as Cramer calls it) seems to outweigh them.
July is gone, and as it fades away, so do the raspberries. August signals the start of the end of summer, which is always bittersweet, but it brings the great consolation of blackberries! One bite of these divine miracles, and I am instantly transported back 40 years in time, to August of every summer on the Bimah Lawn of Camp Swig. And just like back in those days, it's hard to wait. You have to wait till the berries get really soft and plump before you pick them. Otherwise they taste sour. I think this is symbolic of something, but I'm not sure what.