Early last summer, the wild red raspberries were ripe, waiting for the birds, I guess. But since my son John makes his own wine, I picked 8 lbs. of those little tart fruits, braving stickers, ticks and the heat. I was the picker, and John was the vintner. So after many months of fermenting and transfering from bottle to bottle, the clear red wine is ready for our first taste, which will be on Easter (also happens to be my birthday). The kids will all be home and we will cap off a great dinner with a wine tasting party. I made labels using our childhood nicknames. While transferring the liquid to the last bottle, we did a preliminary tasting and all agreed that it was a very 'fine wine.' So now when I am passing by the wild raspberry bushes at the edge of the woods I think of them as an unexpected bonus rather than a blight, and look forward to our second annual harvest this summer.
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