With the incredible heat wave we’re having, raspberry season arrived early!

Cali waits for the raspberries eagerly each summer. She checks at least hourly to see if they are growing, then ripening. She naps in a little space between the berry canes so she won’t miss anything. A space that she created by pulling out, chewing, or flattening whatever was growing there.

As the tiny berries start to appear, her inspections increase. Until! There’s a partially ripe one. She grabs it!

As the days unfold, she gets more selective, choosing only the juiciest ripe berries. She’s careful to avoid the tiny thorns and, unlike me, is rarely clumsy enough to knock a perfect berry off, letting it fall into the thicket of canes (and weeds).

The season is ramping up, and there are enough berries for both of us. I pick the ones higher up on the canes, while the lower ones — and the ones I drop — are Cali’s. I also get all the ones in the back alley.

When I pick berries, I tend to put at least as many into my bowl as I put into my mouth: One for me, one for the bowl, one for me  …

Not Cali. She picks hers like this: One for Cali, one for Cali, one for Cali, one for Cali…