364 THE CAROLINA MOUNTAINS 
differently. In a brier patch you think in cycles and 
flavor your food with dashes of cosmic philosophy. 
And there is profit as well as pleasure in gather- 
ing your food from the bushes. At the back of the 
Grandfather, berries are important in our daily fare. 
We eat them as they grow, and also prepared in 
many ways. We make discoveries in culinary aesthe- 
tics as well as in cosmic philosophy, dealing with 
blackberries. You have never really tasted a black- 
berry pudding, for instance, until you have stood on 
a stone in the Watauga River, stripped the heavy, 
shining clusters of ripe fruit into your tin "bucket," 
carried them back to camp, and made your pudding; 
for your true blackberry pudding must be flavored 
with warm sunshine glinting between green leaves, 
the sparkle of running water, and the remembered 
fragrances of herbs and trees and bushes, with mem- 
ories of pleasant reveries, and it does it no harm to 
be spiced with scratches. 
There is a certain sensuous pleasure to be derived 
from the scratches of a berry patch. The hot rip of 
the thorn through the skin, the crimson line of blood 
that appears at the surface, but does not overflow, 
the tingling sensation that courses over your whole 
body for a moment, — for this you willingly endure 
the smart that comes for hours afterwards whenever 
your wounded members touch anything. Moreover, 
you would endure the scratches so soon forgotten for 
the memory that lasts of the feel of the sun, of the 
beleaguering fragrances, and for the rich booty you 
carry home. 
