My thought, as well.
I have two blackberry patches and more wild vines that line the paths we mow. It is hot work in mosquito territory. So, in the early morning, I gear up with long sleeves, sox and long pants, a hydrated silica gel cooling hat and neck wrap, I pick like a wild woman for about an hour and I end up with at least a gallon, usually more. I do it again in the evening. My husband does the same a couple days a week on the other patch. We put away 8-12 gallons a year, plus we eat a lot of them fresh and give away a lot more. There are more berries than we can use. I have an open invitation to anyone I know who wants to pick and there is a swimming pool to cool off in, afterward. Few want to do the work. They would rather pay $3/pint in the store or be the recipient of our generosity.
In this economy, my fresh or frozen berries are a luxury for which I am willing to sweat a little, not to mention getting scratched by the vines. Besides the berries, it is simply a rite of summer. And in January, it is a tiny bit of that summer brought back to life.
When I was a kid I had an aunt who would pick the wild blackberries on her Iowa farm then mash and strain them and send us a quart of blackberry juice to CO. That was such a treat and thanks to your story I now appreciate the work she did.