Strawberry picking in the pouring rain
The hazy images dancing in my brain of what life on the farm, in particular, life with my family on the farm, looks like, may need a bit of adjusting. Last year, everything went according to plan. We set out for the farm to pick strawberries, and after a few glorious hours of basking in the sun and snacking on warm berries, the sunset bled down on my happy golden girls.
This year the scene was a little different.
It was chilly and wet, and there was a threat of a serious thunderstorm that we had to out-pick. On the plus side, we were the only nutjobs people picking on this stormy 50 degree day. And that waving wheat sure smelled sweet as the wind blew in before the rain (Oklahoma fans in the house?)
Our little farm hands were game and smiled, at least for a few minutes. That’s about how long it took for the first drips of cold rain to trickle down their necks and into their shoes. But we pressed on. There was no time to stop and taste the berries; we had a box to fill before lightening put an end to all this farming fun.
Maybe I was a little tough on my pickers, what with fingers turning blue and lips chattering, but I had this idea in my head, this sunshiny, farm-freshy ideal to be lived up to. Besides, I wanted those berries. So no, that thunder clap was not too close. And no, that cow is not mooing extra loud because he got hit by lightning. Less questions, more picking.
Cold day aside, we were lucky for the chance to pick berries, albeit in the snow, up hill, both ways. Just days after we picked, the farm got drenched with almost 3 inches of rain, decimating the berry patch and forcing other, less hearty CSA members to go strawberry-free.
Meanwhile, we lucky ones dried off, warmed up, and bellied up to a box filled with the delicious fruits of our labor.
