I want blackberries

On the front page of the News-Times last week, a gentleman was in El Dorado selling blackberries. My colleague Kev Moye' talked about how good they looked and how he wished he had some.
This sparked memories of my childhood in Jersey, Arkansas. We lived on a dirt road and I remember vividly wild blackberries all along the roadside. They were everywhere. That's when I learned the blacker the berry, the sweeter the juice.
I also remember a strawberry patch behind our house. There was a peach tree right up the road and muscadine vines as far as the eye could see. My dad had hogs and behind the hog pen, there were plums, big juicy red and yellow plums as sweet as you can imagine.
My dad also raised watermelons and cantalopes.
It's hard to believe all the fruits we had at our disposal right outside our house. How did grocery stores stay in business back then?
My mom would send me to the garden for potatoes, peas, greens. We had peppers - red ones, green ones and yellow ones. There were also great big onions and, of course, tomatoes, which we raised for the market.
I think about those days often, especially today when I spent 50 dollars at the gas station. Fifty freakin' dollars for gas?
Man, it's no wonder this new generation of kids is so messed up.