Ripe for the picking

Every time I've thought about going strawberry picking in the past few weeks, it's rained.

Last Friday, I set out to go again. I took Sawyer to get a super-short summertime haircut, but by the time we were done it was lunchtime it was nearly 90 degrees. I really wasn't willing to risk a heat stroke for a few strawberries. So we put it off again.

Saturday morning, it was overcast and slightly cooler. I was determined we were not going to delay berry-picking any longer.

We hit Rudd Farm, where I always go for strawberries, though this was the first time ever of picking them myself. I had a much more idyllic image in my head than what actually played out in the field.

Sawyer was excited for the first five minutes. We picked up a basket and hit an empty row. He started picking the first berries he found ... the ones people had discarded or dropped in the aisle.



I stopped him and explained that we had to L O O K for red berries and only pick those. He did a little better, but he still just wanted to yank them off as fast as possible. I was scared to death he'd pull up a whole plant like a bunch of carrots.



But we muddled on. By this time it was getting hot, and Sawyer was getting bored. We tried a few different rows, but he really just wanted run up and down them. He was picking up rocks and throwing them to the next row. Or plopping down on the plants. Or climbing over them. Then he picked a few green berries and was tossing them across the rows.




I was trying my best to keep an eye on him while stooping over and pushing back leaves to look for ripe berries. It was not easy or fun, but I was determined to fill our basket. I knew they'd charge us for a full one no matter how full it was.

When I could get Sawyer to help out, he still wasn't much help. He'd pick a berry, stand up and drop it from chest high into the basket. Bruised berries, anyone?



Anyway, I was picking as fast as I could and trying to only get (what I thought were) ripe berries when the funniest thing happened. This cute blonde girl a row over, who was probably at least 6, decided Sawyer needed some help. She had been finding berries and taking them to her Grandma's basket. But out of nowhere, she came up to Sawyer and me and said, "I picked some for him."

Sawyer reached out to take them, we both told her "thank you, and she giggled and ran off. A few minutes later, she was back with a few more. Sawyer was eating up the attention.



That kid is a chick magnet. I better start preparing now for when he's about 12. Maybe by then he can charm some cute girls into doing his work for him.

We finally got a full basket and left. After our outing, this may be the first AND last time we go berry-picking. Strawberry-picking, I've learned, is perhaps too delicate of a task for a rough-and-tumble 2-year-old boy. As for me? I'll gladly pay a few extra bucks to let the farm crew do the picking.