Blackberries

I like this time of year, when summer is slowly starting to give way to the oncoming autumn and the blackberries are ripening in the last of the glorious summer days. If I ever see blackberries I think of Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney, a wonderful poem. My favourite lines are below, I always look at blackberries that way, a glossy purple clot.  

Late August, given heavy rain and sun
For a full week, the blackberries would ripen.
At first, just one, a glossy purple clot
Among others, red, green, hard as a knot.