Blackberry Pie and Bikes

First, the bikes. As some of you know, I HATE bikes. With a FIREY passion. Absolutely hate them. Well I thought that I did and I was very vocal about my thoughts for a long time. Then one day, after  a lot of freaking out and hyperventilating I got on my mom’s townie. And… It wasn’t as bad as I had remembered. It really wasn’t.  My fiance would beg to differ, I freaked out the whole time. I didn’t let him ride in front of me and I refused to ride in the street. He claims that I declared many times that I was going to die. It took me a couple of weeks to get over it, but I finally got back on the bike. My second ride went much better. I rode for a lot longer and only claimed that I was going to die once. Because this time there were blackberries at the end.

After many battle wounds from the blackberry thorns, we had enough blackberries for a pie. After riding home I embarked on my first fruit pie making adventure.

Apparently when making pie, you only get one chance to roll out the dough, talk about pressure. But I only rolled the dough once.

I delicately placed the crust into the pan, notice my mom’s cute blue pie pan. And waited one painful hour as the pie browned to golden perfection.

It was beautiful if I do say so myself 🙂

It was a wonderful day to enjoy God’s creation. In our age of grocery stores and fast food, it was so rewarding to go pick blackberries, come home, make a pie from scratch, wait for it to bake and then get to enjoy the fruits of our labor! Sadly, we left the next day for a weekend in San Luis Obispo to attend some sweet friend’s beautiful wedding and the pie was gone when we returned. I guess it was good!

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