When I drove to work on Monday I was
astonished to see how much the corn had grown since I had last seen it three
day before. It seemed to be almost a foot taller. Perhaps you could have heard
it grow if you listened carefully.
Leroy and I went black raspberry picking
along the bike trail close to our home. It was wonderful. We just stuffed our
mouths full and enjoyed. Sunday evening we came back dressed in jeans, long
sleeved shirts, hats, socks and shoes. Bug spray had also been liberally
applied. We pushed our way into the thickets and got a nice amount. Some we
shared, some we froze, and a big some we happily ate for the next two days. This
afternoon I went back with two buckets. I was able to get an inch or two in
each bucket. I could tell that someone had recently picked. But I certainly got
a lot. On the way home I spotted a young woman coming toward me. I wondered
what she thought of me in my berry picking garb. Soon I learned as she asked
before we were even together, “Did you pick raspberries?”
“Yes,” I told her.
“I am going there too,” she smiled.
“Oh no I picked most of them and the
bugs were eating many of the others.” I said with a bit of distress. “I picked
the edge ones for sure.”
She was not dressed in berry picking
clothes, but she had a backpack. “I have paper bags in here and I will catch a
supply of those bugs for my chickens.”
“Do they like those beetles?” I
wondered.
“Yes they love them. Last year they
ate so many that their poop turned glisteney in the sun.” she said with a
laugh.
I apologized for taking so many of the
berries. But she assured me that it was first come first served. And she had
picked a lot last night.
Paula
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