strawberry picking: perception vs. reality
Last weekend, I decided to go strawberry picking.
I drove through the country side with high ambition: I’d bake a pie, definitely. And I planned to make more awesome granola to top with the freshest strawberries. And maybe throw together a jam, you know, if I just have too many strawberries to deal with. Mmm.
I headed into the fields with my giant cardboard crate and began to look for strawberries.
They were all so cute! So tiny! So organic and genetically unmanipulated!
But they were also so close to the ground, and so far apart, and soon I got tired of flipping over the perfect looking ones to find a squishy, bug-laden underside. Plus, I think I like the genetically modified strawberries… sorry, but these just weren’t the greatest.
Without shame or regret for my ambitions, I weighed my meager haul and headed back home. No pie, no jams, not even fresh granola, but I did have some great strawberries on my cereal that week :) And it was a good adventure, with fresh air and cool breezes and bright sunshine. I even got the ghost of a tan during those 15 minutes in the fields!
And the trip was fruitful in a different fashion: I found a fabric store! And they had a whale knit – an orange-bellied whale knit. You don’t find that every day.
Don’t get me wrong – I love picking fresh fruit. But I think I’ll stick to apples and peaches: things that grow on trees.