Strawberry Picking

pick your own

This post is a bit overdue. At the end of July, some of my friends and our little ones all went to a nearby farm and did some berry picking. This was a ritual my family performed almost every year where I grew up - my brothers and I would help pick gallons of berries and my mom would fill every free space of countertop preparing them for preserves or freezing. I did the same when I got home too. 

getting ready

 This, of course, wasn't Isabella's first foray into berry picking. We've been picking edible stuff around where we live since she was old enough to walk.  It was, however, her first time at a real vegetable farm. The kids were all so happy just to get together - we certainly didn't need a gimmick to get their attention. But once they saw the strawberry fields, and the rows upon rows of redcurrants, blackberries, tayberries, and raspberries, they began "working" in earnest. Isabella ate every single berry she laid hands on - and they were so candy-sweet, I couldn't blame her.

covering each other in hay 

The girls have been friends since Isabella was 6-months-old, so every time we see each other there is a lot of hugging involved - they're practically sisters. This time, when the two of them hugged goodbye - they embraced each other so hard that they both fell over, mid-hug. They got hurt and there were some tears, but it was so ridiculously cute my heart practically burst in an overwhelming sappy mom moment.  

While the parents took turns paying for the loot, the kids all took off to the park and burned what little energy was left. I hope to go back to the farm very soon to repeat the experience. I love the idea of making these sorts of traditions with her, and I hope that she looks back on these times with the same warm and fuzzy feeling I do.