Summer Sweetness

It seems like forever since I've had a day off, when in fact it's only been three days. But with all this sunshiney warmness we've been having, being stuck in an chilly hospital WORKING, seemed to stretch on for an e t e r n i t y. So now, I'm faced with six days of no work and I just can't decide what to do first with all my free time. I think I may actually be able to venture out in the sunshine today - my shins are now only slightly pink, instead of the swollen angry, glowing red things they were all weekend. God bless aloe vera. I think if I slather my legs with the kids' 50 spf sunscreen and try to stay in the shade, that I can avoid having them re-ignite and send me into spontaneous combustion.

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I failed to mention that I went to pick some strawberries on Sunday morning with my mother-in-law and the kids at a local farm. Our county if chock full of berry farms of all varieties: strawberries, raspberries, blueberries, etc. and the blackberries grow like weeds everywhere. We are abundantly berry-blessed. It was gorgeous and HOT on Sunday (which my legs didn't like one bit) but being out there in that enormous berry patch was heaven to me. The berries were huge and so sweet and juicy. AND SO PRETTY. If you've never picked strawberries right off the plant, you've never truly tasted a good strawberry. There's something about pulling it right off and popping it into your mouth, with all it's sun-warmed goodness, that just can't be beat. It totally takes me back to my childhood.

I grew up in Eastern Washington and we picked ALOT of fruit. Partly because it was available and so accessible, and partly because it was so CHEAP. My parents stretched their dollars to amazing lengths in those days and this was just one way. But as a kid, it wasn't about saving money. It was the adventure of finding the biggest strawberry out in the patch and trying so hard to save it to take home but failing miserably because you just couldn't resist eating it right then. I did my fair share of picking too, but probably every third or fourth berry went into ME instead of the bucket. I remember the farm workers commenting, upon seeing me emerge from the field with my face covered in sticky strawberry juice, that they probably should weigh ME instead of my bucket. So Sunday morning, being out there in the hot dusty strawberry patch was like going back in time. I still oooh'ed and aaah'ed over the beautiful red fruit, exclaiming each time I found "a big one". I still couldn't resist tasting the ones that were perfectly red and ripe.

The kids had a great time too. I instructed them both on how to gently look under the leaves of the plants, how to pick only the red ones and then gently place them in the bucket to prevent bruising. They were both great little pickers and quickly picked up the hunt for the perfect strawberries. And you know what? When we walked out of that strawberry patch, do you know what the farm workers said to my daughter?

"We probably should weigh YOU!"

Ah, the circle of life.