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Cut across the dry grass to the neighbor’s house, a walk that feels long and hot but couldn’t be a quarter mile. Grab a pail, or a teal cardboard carton, or a cupped hand. Pick the darkest berries. Squeeze one or two and watch the caterpillar insides ooze out. Taste the sweetness of a season’s growth, over in a moment. Wipe your hands on your clothes. Pick some in bunches, then slow down and look for the fat ones. Try the green ones, to see. Idle here and there between the rows. When your shirt sticks to your skin, look down at your spoils. There shouldn’t be much. Go home full.