Strawberry Picking

It started out being a cool, breezy day. I decided that it was the perfect weather to expose the boys to child labor...errrr..the joys of sun warmed strawberries and filling those green cardboard quarts. With every mile we drew closer to the farm, the temperature climbed. By the time we arrived it was unbearably hot and sticky. The farm was packed with people who were of the idea that this is all out turf wars.

Unbelievable! For instance, there were little white flags in order for you to see where you were supposed to pick. When you are finished with your section, common courtesy dictates that you put a flag there to mark for the next person. Well, people were hoarding their rows as if we were not standing on a 10 acre field of berry bushes so laden that they drooped to the ground with golf ball sized fruit.

Nathanial was intent on us starting in the far corner of this immense field, while I carried two crates with 16 quart boxes in them. On and on we trudged, as the sun rose higher and hotter. Gabe decided that he didnt want to walk. I stopped to put him on my back, juggling these two large crates and keeping up the conversation about slug heaven(as in *this must be what slug heaven is like mom*). We finally arrive in the most distant point from our car and Nathanial decides that he is too tired to pick and wants to use the foam kneeling pad(did I mention that I carried that too?) as a bed. There he sits, gazing up at the sky while I pick berries and keep Gabe from putting the hay(used as mulch) onto the picked berries, my hair and basically everywhere else he can toss it. So, the berries eventually get picked, mom survives and the boys had a great time. The never picked a single berry(unless you count that mostly mold thing that Gabe was studying) and we discussed what slug mecca was, why the berries hide under the leaves and how come so many people come to pick berries if they don't seem happy about it.

We rode home in air conditioned, strawberry scented comfort, secure in the knowledge that strawberry shortcake was on the menu that night. And the next time I ask them if they want to go, I bet they will be the first ones to the car.

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