There is so much going on this time of year. Not just what is happening on this dirt road but what is happening off the dirt road.
Yesterday I got up and had the insane idea it was time to pick strawberries. I had read in the paper that the local field was open at 7 a.m. and it is PYO (pick your own). So without further ado I changed into my work pants, boots, a tee shirt and my ratty sweatshirt. Wallet in one pocket and checkbook in the other, I was ready.
Eating strawberries is always easier than picking them. And not matter which way you try, bending over, squatting or crawling on the ground it is hard work. Fortunately time went by a little faster as my niece Jacki is working down at the field again this year. As a college student she needs some bucks for school and this is one place where summer employment and higher than minimum wages are offered.
There was one solitary man out picking at that hour. The sky was grey and overcast. A slight chill to the air and you could feel the humidity as it flowed down from the tops of the mountains to the valley floor. Eventually the rain began, (The man left.) not a hard rain, a soft rain. The type of rain that reminds you of childhood. Running and dancing in the rain. Even better that swimming because there was no deep end and the entire yard was your 'pool'.
So for about 2hrs Jacki and I talked and picked. It is a lovely combination. You can keep moving down a row, picking strawberries, taking time to sample one on occasion and swap stories. By the time I was done I had picked 33 pounds of berries, was pretty well soaked through to the skin and knew my niece a little better than when I had started. To me that was well worth the time and effort.
Then last evening after some constructive bonding time out in the yard (also know as yard work). The hubby and I processed 2 of those flats full of summer treasure. 18 quart bags down in the freezer. And what was left of last years crop, came out of the freezer and got processed into 6 pints of strawberry-rhubarb jam. There is still 1 flat left with about 10 pounds of berries. Some will be made into strawberry-rhubarb bread to take to my other niece's graduation party today. And the rest will go in to plain strawberry jam. Although there is nothing plain about homemade jam. I might even dry a few just so I can enjoy that lovey smell into winter.
All this activity means I haven't taken time lately to walk down my dirt road. But I find now I drive down a little bit slower. I saw 2 groups of turkeys yesterday on the dirt road. When you drive fast, they are gone in a blink of an eye. They can move fast when they want to. But if you drive slowly, they take time to look at you while you can take time to look at them. That's what yesterday was about. Seeing what has been in front of me for years. My niece, the flat valley floor which contains such lovely red and ripe richness and life around me.
You really do need to stop and smell the roses, or in this case, the strawberries.
Yesterday I got up and had the insane idea it was time to pick strawberries. I had read in the paper that the local field was open at 7 a.m. and it is PYO (pick your own). So without further ado I changed into my work pants, boots, a tee shirt and my ratty sweatshirt. Wallet in one pocket and checkbook in the other, I was ready.
Eating strawberries is always easier than picking them. And not matter which way you try, bending over, squatting or crawling on the ground it is hard work. Fortunately time went by a little faster as my niece Jacki is working down at the field again this year. As a college student she needs some bucks for school and this is one place where summer employment and higher than minimum wages are offered.
There was one solitary man out picking at that hour. The sky was grey and overcast. A slight chill to the air and you could feel the humidity as it flowed down from the tops of the mountains to the valley floor. Eventually the rain began, (The man left.) not a hard rain, a soft rain. The type of rain that reminds you of childhood. Running and dancing in the rain. Even better that swimming because there was no deep end and the entire yard was your 'pool'.
So for about 2hrs Jacki and I talked and picked. It is a lovely combination. You can keep moving down a row, picking strawberries, taking time to sample one on occasion and swap stories. By the time I was done I had picked 33 pounds of berries, was pretty well soaked through to the skin and knew my niece a little better than when I had started. To me that was well worth the time and effort.
Then last evening after some constructive bonding time out in the yard (also know as yard work). The hubby and I processed 2 of those flats full of summer treasure. 18 quart bags down in the freezer. And what was left of last years crop, came out of the freezer and got processed into 6 pints of strawberry-rhubarb jam. There is still 1 flat left with about 10 pounds of berries. Some will be made into strawberry-rhubarb bread to take to my other niece's graduation party today. And the rest will go in to plain strawberry jam. Although there is nothing plain about homemade jam. I might even dry a few just so I can enjoy that lovey smell into winter.
All this activity means I haven't taken time lately to walk down my dirt road. But I find now I drive down a little bit slower. I saw 2 groups of turkeys yesterday on the dirt road. When you drive fast, they are gone in a blink of an eye. They can move fast when they want to. But if you drive slowly, they take time to look at you while you can take time to look at them. That's what yesterday was about. Seeing what has been in front of me for years. My niece, the flat valley floor which contains such lovely red and ripe richness and life around me.
You really do need to stop and smell the roses, or in this case, the strawberries.
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