Picking Raspberries

My sister asked to come to the cemetery with me this morning. While I watered Mrs. Pachecos flowers, she helped water the ones at our parents gravesite. Just as we were leaving, I felt a snake on my foot, which then dissapeared into the grass. I suggested to my sister that we ride our bikes down Mississauga Road, to a place where raspberries were growing wild. She agreed, and so we did. They were both red and purple, and we ate nearly all the ripe ones. On our way back we stopped at the old Leslie Log House. I wanted to check on the condition of the apple orchards. There we got into a converstion with a volunteer, who seemed fairly knowledgeable about plants, and the history of the Pinchin family. She pointed out to me a very large, and truly magnificent Black Walnut tree. I looked it over and decided that tomorrow I would come back to take its picture. I mentioned to the volunteer that I believed it was nearly 200 years old. She told me I was correct.

On our way back we stopped at the old Leslie Log House (1826.)
A very large, and truly magnificent Black Walnut tree.

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