Photo quote de jour

These are the first raspberries picked from my garden on the eve of the full moon today. The fullness of the moon coupled with the bumper crop of berries has left me dizzy with joy.
So much so, I'm speechless. Thankfully Walt Whitman on June 21,1892, kept a record of the very same joy (albeit a little further north of me near the Hudson River, but the same trains run and the same river flows). My only question is : how come we have to wait until the middle of July for the harvest?

Have a wildly happy full moon weekend!

—Here I am, on the west bank of the Hudson, 80 miles north of New York, near Esopus, at the handsome, roomy, honeysuckly-and-rose-embower’d cottage of John Burroughs. The place, the perfect days and nights the air, the fruit, (especially my favorite dish, currants and raspberries, mixed, sugar’d, fresh and ripe from the bushes—I pick ’em myself)—the room I occupy at night, the perfect bed, the window giving an ample view of the Hudson and the opposite shores, so wonderful toward sunset, and the rolling music of the RR. trains, far over there—the peaceful rest—the early Venus-heralded dawn—the noiseless splash of sunrise, the light and warmth indescribably glorious, in which, (soon as the sun is well up,) Then, after some whiffs of morning air, the delicious coffee of Mrs. B., with the cream, strawberries, and many substantials, for breakfast.

- Walt Whitman, Happiness and Raspberries, June 21 (1892)