Wild berry season is underway.  Salmonberries have been ripe for quite a while, and yesterday I saw quite a few of those, as well as dewberries, red huckleberries, and, from the picture above, thimbleberries.

I’ve always had a particular soft spot for thimbleberries, which is appropriate considering their leaves and berries are soft and inviting.  They taste like a sharper, denser version of a raspberry.  They slide off the plant in a perfect cup shape.  When ripe, the berries are an unmistakable dark red.

Their name has also caused some confusion.  When I was a kid, I went around blithely calling them “wild raspberries,” which I may have just decided was their name or my mother may have told me.  (Then again, my parents also told me that the smallest classification of Washington State Ferries was called the Dinky Class, and I believed them until I moved out here as an adult.  See my blog entry for the gricken to understand where I got my tendencies.)  Then, a few years ago, a friend whose knowledge I respect about native plants told me that it was not at all a raspberry, and that it was called a red cap, or sometimes thimbleberry.  Another friend corroborated on the name “red cap” so I’ve been going around calling them red caps ever since.

Today, however, a peek into Wikipedia reveals that the plants are rubus parviflorus, thus the same genus as a raspberry, as well as blackberries, dewberries, and salmonberries.  Plus, the name “red cap” for these berries is nowhere to be found online, and, as we know, something being online also means it’s true (hmm, maybe I should make a Wikipedia entry about the gricken...).

The entry also points out that, unlike a thorny raspberry or blackberry, these plants are invitingly thorn-free.  No wonder I’ve always liked the leaves.

And what to call them?  I guess I can accept “thimbleberries” since it seems to be proper.  I may always secretly think of them as wild raspberries.  Or maybe it’s time to make up a new name and see if it catches on...