I absolutely loooove raspberries.(I may be addicted) My love for them began when I was little girl and my Dad told me they were his favorite fruit. Dad and I had a really special relationship, so I stored this little fact for future use. I was always trying to make him happy and proud, so when weeks later my sweet Mom bought me a little raspberry bush from a road side stand, I hatched a plan to make my Dad super happy. Mom and I planted that little bush and I tended to it like a tiny baby; sitting by it for hours with the hopes of seeing the first berry pop. In my little gardening head I was already envisioning myself carrying a huge basket of raspberries to show my family and feed to the neighbors. After a couple of weeks, I was really starting to lose the faith. My raspberry bush was broke, I decided, nonetheless I awoke early one morning and walked outside in my jammies to check my broken little bush. And there they were! 4 plump little raspberries and 1 mutant little raspberry looking thing, which looked a little sketchy.
I plucked those berries so fast, I practically ripped up the entire bush. I remember putting them in a ginormous bowl and carrying them into my Dad, like I was bringing him gold. I had a moment where I thought he might laugh at my teeny little crop, but as soon as he saw them he made a huge fuss, ate all of them, even the little mutant one. Once done with my little raspberry feast, Dad gushed and smacked his lips like my raspberries were the best thing he had ever tasted. In hindsight, I realize now they were most likely awful and bitter, but because my little 7 year old brain just wanted a darn berry, I had given no thought to letting them grow into a real raspberry. I do remember feeling incredibly proud of myself, and without ever even tasting one, I declared from that day forward, raspberries were now also my favorite fruit.