The fat of the land: berry season in BC

It took me nine months to appreciate Vancouver. We arrived here just after the torrential rains which flushed tons of particulate matter into the water supply, prompting a boil water advisory, and just before the windstorms which blew down 40% of Stanley Park. Since it rained for five months after we arrived, it took some getting used to.

When it changed for me was August, when the blackberries came into season. Morning and afternoon I'd bury myself in a briar, stuffing my face with berries and picking a pailful to eat the rest of the day. After that, I saw the city differently: the rain didn't bother me so much, the laid-back nothing's-going-on nature of the city life didn't leave me anxious, and Toronto seemed a bit farther away. This year I've picked so many of them that we can't keep up, and we're freezing them for wintertime. They are sweet and moist, ripe and ready to eat, the kind that can't be transported because they turn to mush so quickly after picking.

Two or three times per week I've been picking up a 5kg flat of blueberries on my way home. I strap it to my bicycle rack and drag it up the hill, trailing berries that escape through the slats in the side when I go over a bump. It's unbelievable, but between the two of us we polish off those blueberries in 24 hours. They're so ripe, so fresh, so fat and juicy – the texture is completely different from those sold in supermarkets.

Louie is also excited when berry season comes around because blueberries are his favourite treat. Here he is demonstrating his ability to shake hands. He gets so excited that he sits, stands, shakes, lies down, and repeats his repertoire until given his due.

Berry season has passed its peak and we're sliding down the wrong side of August now, but we'll still have berries for a few more weeks. I'll be there in the ditch, picking my breakfast like a bear.