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Sweet, wild berries plucked from roadside patches are a delightful side benefit of camping. Each summer, my husband Bob and I would send the kids off with their little metal buckets and the next day we would all enjoy the fruits of their labor: raspberry pancakes turned on the grill or firm blackberries to dot a hot cooked-on-the-campfire peanut butter sandwich. The children looked forward to picking. We could usually find just about anything, from blueberries in early summer to raspberries and blackberries in August. Every year - except one. Theres nothing around here to pick! five-year-old Julie complained, poking a stick into the dying fire one late summer evening. The season had been too dry; what few blackberries were left on the bushes were hard as marbles. Yeah. I looked all over, added four-year-old Brian. Wish there was something. That night, after the kids were zipped into their sleeping sacks and I was sure they werent awake, I handed Bob a bag of large marshmallows and I grabbed a bag of the miniatures. Get the lantern and follow me, I said. Were going to make a memory. What? He looked puzzled. I told him about the kidscampfire conversation and Bob grinned, Lets go! The next morning over pancakes, I said, Kids, I think youre going to have something to pick today. | 
