Some days I’m not sure I’m even a writer.  Writers are like that. But Monday I took a small carton of blackberries to my friend and she wrote on a social media post: “Yum. Home grown blackberries with a little cream and raw sugar. Thank you, my sweet fruit fairy…” Along with the blackberries, I shared a little ditty with her. She is a poet, a real one, but the fruit fairy was unashamed.   His Best Thing   I think blackberries are my dad’s best thing. Better than best, maybe best-est. Perhaps most best. His briar patch is a twenty-foot arbor on the southwest side of our house. He built it the spring after we all moved to the new place. It might be a pergola, or maybe a trellis, but he…