“How’s the weather?” I had almost given up hope in even asking the question because I’m from Boston. Anyone who knows anyone who lives in New England knows that the weather this winter and spring has been horrible. Snowy. Cold. Wet. Rainy. Cloudy. Cold again….and all of the other bad weather words you can think of. However, because we had 3 sunny days this week… I asked the question again. To my expected dismay…the answer was…”Not too good.” Skies were gray, sun was absent, it was cold, and mist filled the air. After my sarcastic response of “Super!” and a few choice words about living where I do, out came the next question. ” What are we going to do today?” I dread this question.
Sooo….to attack the second day of summer vacation I decided that we would do something different…something fun…something… “summery.” (love that word.) It was decided that my “little man” (as I call my youngest,) and I would do something together. This miniature person and I don’t often do these kinds of things. So his day it was.
Because nothing says summer quite like fresh berries, it was decided…We were going strawberry picking. The weather? Not a probem… we were gonna do it. After 1 phone call to a friend’s mom, and 1 text to the same friend’s mom, and double checking for allergies of course…off we went. We hit traffic, the kind of traffic you know is bad cause a little voice in the back seat chimes in…” are we moving?” (At which point I had to chuckle.) When we arrived at our destination (www.wardsberryfarm.com), the boys hopped out of the car and ran to the store where we bought our baskets to fill with strawberries. Courageously, we zipped up our jackets, opened our umbrellas and, as instructed, followed the “pink tape” to where the strawberry fields lie ahead.
I trudged miserably in my knee high, wool lined rubber boots
over the gross wet hay on the field…not really knowing exactly what I was looking for. Then I spied the boys picking away at these tiny red dots?? Wow. Those are the berries? ( insert negative thought about how large those small cardboard baskets suddenly looked in comparison to those dots.)
Once we got the hang of it we starting picking away. I figured…2 hours at least to fill these things. But something seemed to change…There were larger berries! There were lots of berries! There was laughter and a little excitement among the 3 of us. (the only people in the field by the way) Shouts of “I found a Beauty!“brought back vivid memories of my father as he always used that word to describe something that looked absolutely fantastic. Fits of laughter at the berries that were oddly shaped or weird in color
brought a smile to my face. I witnessed friendship at its best watching two little boys help each other when one basket spilled on the ground. About midway through our filling of 3 baskets, our little boy friend said to us…” This is a perfect day for strawberry picking.”
The words hit me. I stopped for a second. I thought to myself…on this cold, rainy, just plain ugly Thursday, those little eyes and that little heart saw and felt perfection. How great is that. I looked at the tiny strawberries and the sunless sky and the smelly farm with a different set of eyes after that. Eyes that had be loaned to me from an 8 year old boy. I liked those eyes a lot. Those eyes touched my heart…and I felt something different…something good.
After visiting the cows and the sheep, (and causing quite a stir with the goats who I think starting yelling at us in goat language) we stuffed ourselves with hot dogs and icy cold root beer and cotton candy slush so sweet it made our teeth hurt. We vowed that we were definitely “coming back to this place.” Together. As we threw our soaking wet umbrellas and jackets into the back of the car, and so cautiously placed our baskets of berries so they would not spill…I looked up at the still grey, misty, cloudy sky. I thought to myself… Yes….it was the perfect day for strawberry picking.”
“It’s all how you look at it.”