there's almost nothing I'd rather do than pick berries in the woods

When I bought this farm I knew there were berry bushes out in the woods, but I had no idea there were as many as there are.  Teeming.  More than you could ever pick.  More and more all the time, with each sunny August week, as many as you have the energy to seek out.  Berry picking is hot work, you will get many thorns despite your long sleeves, work pants and muck boots.  You discover a grove, hundreds of them, and when you think you've picked them all, turn around and go back to where you just were, because you missed a hundred more.  It smells like summer itself, there are spiders and bees foraging alongside you, and there is something deeply satisfying about the task.  I make berry jam out of almost all of them, it's seedy and thick, and I will save a jar to spread on my toast on the darkest mornings of next February.  With fifty feet of snow outside and the fruit on my tongue, it will taste like this beautiful day.