Over the River and Through the Woods, Fruit Picking We Will Go...

For a day that by all accounts was supposed to be a total wash-out, I took my chances and packed Samantha up to go to a pick-your-own farm to gather blackberries and peaches on Sunday.  I know pretty well what she thinks about this sort of thing, but I wasn't truly invested on necessarily getting the fruit, I was more interested in finding something fun to do outside of the house, somewhere we could attempt to soak in some of that elusive Vitamin D while we could.  A morning shower nearly deterred me, but the farm wasn't far and I figured if we got a little wet we'd survive with dignity and grace (and I'd immediately drop my camera into the plastic bag I thought to bring with me).

As truly amazing, sheer luck would have it, the sun came out and stayed out, pretty much all day, and apart from a few muddy puddles I had to struggle to keep Samantha from jumping in (thanks a lot, Peppa Pig...), everything was pretty much dry.

It was a long walk to the orchard from where we parked the car, and Sammi's good-spirited ambling eventually became a whiny, foot-dragging crawl (figuratively speaking), getting worse and worse each time I said, "Oh, it's right up there!  Come on!"  Right up there?  Yeah, right, Mommy, I've heard that one before...  I felt bad, but really, we were getting so close!  By the time we reached the blackberries, she'd had about enough, picking a few, then plopping down in the middle of the row, complaining that she wanted to go home. 

Can I just say how difficult it is to carry heavy, hot, sweaty child on hot, sweaty me, while balancing a camera on one shoulder and a bucket of fruit in the other hand, walking on uneven paths of dirt, tractor treads and fallen fruit?  Well, that's what I did.  For a short while.  Then I made her walk anyway, with the promise of a rinse-off in the creek we had to cross via two flat planks masquerading as a bridge. 

Poor girl hates berries.  She ate a few once we returned home by asking me to dip them in sugar, like the successful experiment we tried with some strawberries last week.  I was pleasantly surprised that she even suggested that - I had completely forgotten!  And she ate several, asking for more with each mouthful.  Everything's better when it's dipped in sugar, right? (And we won't mention how much sugar I put on my Cheerios every morning...)

Sammi's hand, reaching for the peaches.  I have absolutely no idea how I managed to get that shot with her balanced on my left hip and my camera wobbling precariously in my right hand.  Oh, and what a sky!  Did someone say wash-out? 

I love Queen Anne's Lace.  I remember, when I was a child, my mother proclaimed it her favorite flower.  One day, when I was 6 or 7, driving to the beach, she asked my father to pull the car over onto the hard shoulder so she could pick a few that were growing along the side of the road.  Remember that, Mom?

Don't let her purple face fool you - she's pretty much anti-fruit these days (except, of course, for the precious and delicious bananas that she can't have due to their, uh, binding nature...).  She was pretending to eat the berries for my benefit, succeeding only in covering herself in the sticky, staining juice.

Crouching on the "bridge" over the creek to rinse her hands and face. 

Success!  I was so proud - she did a great job with absolutely no help from me (who was too busy taking pictures), and without the benefit of a mirror.

 

Now that's what I call breakfast! (Yes, I took my cereal outside to photograph it - wanna make something of it?)