We lived in a suburban valley that we had to drive over a large hill to get to. At the "bottom of the hill" just before the houses started was an overgrown area where we could find blackberries at the right time of year. Dad sometimes stopped the car there on the way back from somewhere and we had nothing but our hankies to collect them in. We could never get them all because the ones in the middle couldn't be reached. Any that made it home were taken to Grandma's place for her make a blackberry & apple pie. The blackberries you can buy taste nothing like those wild blackberries.