As I have written earlier this summer, we have a large raspberry patch along one side of our garage. It thrives there without too much attention save an annual pruning. Each June I taste some of the berries. While I enjoy them, I sense that I am remembering a richer flavor berry from last year. Then I reflect on how often a memory of taste is often stronger than the actual taste and I relax.
But then come the first berries of August. We inadvertently planted two varieties of raspberries mingled with one another. These second berries are from a different type than the June ones. Yesterday I ate three of the new ones. I was right. These berries were bigger, richer and juicier. It’s just that I was comparing last year’s August berries with this year’s June ones. I mentioned this to my husband. He said that we do this same comparison every year. Fortunately each year we are again delighted by the second harvest.
I am pausing to reflect on what other things are often better the second time around.