The glorious ecstasy of a dewberry cobbler, or maybe a handful of fresh ones topping a bowl of home-churned vanilla ice cream, more than offsets certain disadvantages the plant has. Once established, dewberries are devilishly difficult to grub out of fields. Their small but super-abundant briars can wreak havoc on even the toughest pair of brush britches or Duxbak pants. The vines, which grow horizontally just a few inches above the earth’s surface, are Mother Nature’s ultimate trap or tripping device. Make a misstep or get in a hurry while wending your way through a patch of dewberries and you are begging to take a tumble.

Dewberries are closely related to what is far and away the best known of the wild brambles, the luscious, omnipresent blackberry. Old Will Shakespeare, who seemed to know something about everything, once wished that “reasons were as plentiful as blackberries.” He was right on the mark. Botanists indicate that literally hundreds of subspecies of blackberries exist, and anyone who has done much picking likely has noticed subtle variations in their appearance and nature. In fact, genetic engineering has even produced a thornless blackberry, but like seedless watermelons these are also-rans in the taste sweepstakes. Moreover, no self-respecting berry pickers feel that they have fulfilled all the requirements of their job until their hands are well-scratched, briar-riddled, and stained a lovely purple-black hue.

When it comes to blackberries, “no pain, no gain” is the operative truism. But even if picking them results in occasional occupational hazards such as chigger bites or getting into a wasp nest, they are well worth the effort. Realization of that fact comes the moment you take the first bite from a piping hot bowl of blackberry cobbler swimming in cream, slather an ample amount of jam or jelly on a buttered cathead biscuit, or yield to the tremendous temptation to eat a luscious handful in the midst of the pickin’ process.

Another berry found in great plentitude here and indeed over much of the country is the elderberry. Even though it is easily gathered, thanks to being plentiful and lacking the thorny protection of some of its brethren berries, it is sadly neglected today. Yet gathering the big clusters of berries requires nothing more than a sharp pocket knife, and washing then removing them from the collection of tiny stems forming the cluster is an easy task. Once these things are accomplished, elderberries lend themselves to a variety of uses. They make a quite passable pie, a toothsome jelly, and a wine cordial that is sheer nectar. As a bonus, if patience isn’t your strong suit, the distinctive white bloom clusters, generally known as elderflower, can be used for fritters; to make wine; and in numerous nostrums to treat allergies, colds, and other ailments. Elderberry juice or concentrate is also a widely recommended folk medicine.

Other options, to be sure, stretch through late spring and summer for wild berries found at certain places in South Carolina. They include mulberries, serviceberries, huckleberries, blueberries, and more. However, they are less widespread or readily available than those included here. Once elderberries have come and gone, the best of the summer’s wild berrying is past, and it is time for the forager in nature’s larder to turn to autumn’s bounty in the form of nuts.

Each yearly arrival of fall posts a seasonal “no picking” sign for the coming months, but staunch sons and daughters of the soil know that with ever-returning spring, they can once more renew the annual pleasure and mouthwatering delicacies associated with pickin’. Meanwhile, for those who had sufficient gumption to do the pickin’ and preparin’, they have canned berries for pies and cobblers, jellies and jams to decorate biscuits with distinction, and maybe even some berry leather for snacks or use in making berry dumplings. Berries were a dependable, welcome, and important item of diet for our forebears. For me, they were also a source of boyhood income, and in one sense, all these decades later, I’m still earning interest from my investments in pickin’. It’s an activity conducive to cherished recollections, quiet contemplation, and scrumptious eating. Those are mighty fine rewards for some sweat on the brow and scratches on the hands.