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英语美文：夏季的温馨采浆果

Sweet, wild berries plucked from roadside patches are a delightful side benefit of camping. Each summer, my husband Bob and I would send the kids off with their little metal buckets and the next day we would all enjoy the fruits of their labor: raspberry pancakes turned on the grill or firm blackberries to dot a hot cooked-on-the-campfire peanut butter sandwich.

The children looked forward to picking. We could usually find just about anything, from blueberries in early summer to raspberries and blackberries in August. Every year - except one.

"There's nothing around here to pick!" five-year-old Julie complained, poking a stick into the dying fire one late summer evening.

The season had been too dry; what few blackberries were left on the bushes were hard as marbles.

"Yeah. I looked all over," added four-year-old Brian. "Wish there was something."

That night, after the kids were zipped into their sleeping sacks and I was sure they weren't awake, I handed Bob a bag of large marshmallows and I grabbed a bag of the miniatures.

"Get the lantern and follow me," I said. "We're going to make a memory."

"What?" He looked puzzled.

I told him about the kids'campfire conversation and Bob grinned, "Let's go!"

The next morning over pancakes, I said, "Kids, I think you're going to have something to pick today."

"Really!" Julie's eyes shone. "What?"

"What?" echoed Brian.

"Marshmallows," I said, as though I'd said it every summer. "Last night Daddy and I walked down toward the lake and it looks as though they're just about ready to pick. It's a good thing we're here now. They only come out one day a year."

Julie looked skeptical, and Brian giggled. "You're silly, Mom! Marshmallows come in bags from the store."

I shrugged. "So do blackberries, but you've picked those, haven't you? Somebody just puts them in bags."

"Daddy, is that true?" He demanded.