I always love the idea of berry picking but hate the reality of actually doing it. I trace this lighthearted hatred back to the pre-teen summers that I spent picking berries as a part time job. Me and Shoshannah did it together. She was SO good at it. Driven. Ambitious. Filled her baskets so quickly with only the best berries; thoroughly rummaging through the leaves as to leave no ripe berry un-picked. I, on the other hand, remember conjuring up the tiniest bit of effort for a few minutes right at the start of the day and then, thinking that I would just break for a minute or two, wander away from my nearly empty basket to the side of the field where I would make up a dance routine... or two.
Invariably our morning of work would conclude and Shosh would be going home with a heaping stack of cash to show my parents and I'd have a new little piece of choreography to show them. Thinking back, they were really quite encouraging of their 'day-dreaming' second daughter, considering that I wasn't doing my job well at all.
My Mom and I took the kids to a Berry Farm right near their place. Great place to pick-your-own if you're in the Ottawa Valley.
Invariably our morning of work would conclude and Shosh would be going home with a heaping stack of cash to show my parents and I'd have a new little piece of choreography to show them. Thinking back, they were really quite encouraging of their 'day-dreaming' second daughter, considering that I wasn't doing my job well at all.
My Mom and I took the kids to a Berry Farm right near their place. Great place to pick-your-own if you're in the Ottawa Valley.
I was really surprised that the boys actually enjoyed themselves. Maybe I figured that they'd take after me and start getting bored a few minutes in; they both stayed on track and, along with my Mom, picked until we were full.
Who knows, kiddos? Maybe you'll follow in your Aunt Shoshannah's footsteps and make a small fortune in the berry patch.
Pie.
