When the wild blackberries bloom, they cannot keep secret their genealogy. These untamed cousins of the garden rose may have smaller blossoms but they retain their ancient arsenal of deadly little thorns. Almost overnight, one section of the picket fence across the street was overtaken by brambles. What a perfect set of design contrasts: the orderly white pickets and the organic, near-chaos of the flower clusters and leaves tumbling over and through the fence. That was days ago. The blooms have faded, leaving green leaves and of course the prickly stems. I hope my neighbors won't notice so that we can witness the remaining stages as the brambles set fruit. I will look, but I don't dare touch.