Yesterday morning, the kiddos and I went off on our first strawberry-picking adventure of the year with the Hip Mamas. We did a lot of picking last year. I'm pretty sure it was about once a week that Kristen and I were taking the kids to one farm or another to pick a fruit of some sort. I have wonderful memories of our many trips to Sweet Berry Farm in search of strawberries, blueberries, apples, peaches, raspberries, and blackberries. The kids got to know which path led to which fruit and made a game out of reading the arrow signs with pictures of the fruit we would be picking that day. Haley made up songs and got the boys to sing along with her while they walked. Something about the drive over the bridge and down the dirt path that leads to the farm stand seemed to lull us into a state of serene bliss.
Months after we started making the trek "all the way to Middletown," we brought some other friends there with us who, for whatever reason, just didn't get what was so special about that place and made some comments about the drive, the scarcity of peaches at that time of the year, etc etc. So, I think it may have been the journey that hooked us, and our walks from the car to the orchards were probably an eye catching glimpse into the wonderful world of walking meditation which we have since discovered. I remember coming away from there thinking aloud to myself, "Wow, this is the life..."
Anyway, strawberry picking today at Schartner's didn't have that same happy, relaxing tranquility to it. I wouldn't say it was better or worse, but our day just had a totally different tone. We met up with a big group of people that ended up being a bit scattered across the field, so it was fun to walk around, pick berries, and bump into friends...kinda like a cocktail hour minus the drinks.
Jameson and Maddie were happy to be in the presence of play group pals. Both kids were hungrily picking strawberries and stuffing their faces like they hadn't eaten in years. I brought two big containers to fill and had grandiose plans of strawberry shortcakes, strawberry bread, and strawberry ice cream. The first container was about a quarter of the way full before Jameson had to pee and tried to pull his pants down in the middle of the field. So, we had to pack up and leave before the newly discovered art of peeing outside was showcased for a group of fifty onlookers who would probably be none too pleased about urine in the strawberry patch. I did see a port-a-potty on the way out, but no way were we going there again.
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