As soon as these kids could walk, we began the tradition of gathering them all together and herding them onto some farmland or other to pick ripe fruit. We do apples, strawberries, blueberries, peaches. This trip it was blueberries!
There it is, folks, my favoritest color in the whole wide world! That beachy, blue-gray, denim-y, bleached-out jeans color of the ripe blueberry. (Beachy and denim-y are too, words.)
My migrant farm crew, pre-picking. Psyched up and raring to go. They work cheap, too. I had to promise an ice cream and all the berries they could eat while picking. (Sorry, farm owners.)
Preparation is intense...
What farm is complete without animals? No sheep; however, they had these:
And like any well-producing blueberry field, there were lots and lots of these:
These kids will feed anything that sticks its nose through a fence.
Overcome by emotions during the picking. (??) Too cute.
So much fun! Nothing like fresh hand-picked fruit. We took our kids blueberry picking a few weeks ago and they had a great time. My son, however, wouldn't eat a raw blueberry for all the bribery in the world...
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