the wrong end of the telescope

Not the same, I know, but when I was a kid we had a house out in Pennsylvania where we would spend weekends, and at the end of the cul-de-sac was nothing but forest, full of wild blueberry and blackberry bushes. My daddy and I would head in there together and get bug-bitten and bramble-scratched while we filled our buckets, and I swear, even all these years later, the store-bought ones don't taste nearly as good as those ones we picked ourselves. ♥