A Proper Harvest

Carrying an empty clay bowl when ripe berries were hanging right past the willow grove made no sense at all. I walked upstream to the berry thicket, carefully holding my scoured dish by its rounded base so my palms wouldn't smudge the rim. The low branches were heavy with dark, glossy berries. Instead of tugging them hastily, I inspected each cluster, snipping only the firmest stems with my fingernails so the skins stayed unbroken. I settled twelve berries into the bowl in neat, concentric circles, ensuring they didn't press or bruise one another. Orderly gathering ensures nothing goes to waste.