Strawberry Fields Forever...(or maybe just once a year for kicks!)

This.....

Is where the Strawberry Dictator lives while you pick berries and wait for orders.  She is no doubt part of some larger Strawberry Oligarch, however for two hours, she was my own scary, somewhat angry, strawberry field FIASCO...Dictator.

It sounds so idyllic to say..."oh my, let us go and pick strawberries, how delightful, we shall have shortcake" but let me tell you, the truth of the matter is that strawberry picking is NOT altogether delightful.

The entire task of picking fruit from 6 inch tall bushes, is hard work best done ON YOUR KNEES. It's not easy work, OH no. And do you know what? they call Strawberries Strawberries because they literally grow in the straw, the berries, they're bedded down like mice in your winter storage. Seriously, you are lifting strawberry leaf skirts and rifling through the straw searching for perfect berries and running into mushy, buggy ones.

The Dictator alternately read a book in her truck-berry-camper and stalked the rows, squinting at the squat berry bushes and insisting "you MUST pick the little berries, that's just about all that's left!" and ordering the girls, along with the veteran cowed workers, to double check their rows and carry along iron curtain poles, to plant wherever one leaves off picking. "Lift the plants up ladies! Don't Be Shy!" she shouted, waving her arms about before skedaddling back to read her romance novel.

So...as the work commenced (and it was a LOT of work, we picked 25 quarts) I tossed my tee-shirt in the straw and worked in my cami.  The sun baked my shoulders, the breeze started to feel really amazing and the smell of strawberries became literally intense. 

My daughter, and her friends crawled ahead of me down their berry lanes, springing up to run and show me the strangest shaped berries they could find..."Be careful where you walk honey, you don't want to step on any bushes" I loudly cautioned in a stern voice when the Berry Master peeked out to see what the excitement was all about. (I'm a respectful Berry Peon).

As I lifted leafy skirts, I popped a perfect berry or two or three in my mouth, carefully avoiding the gaze of the Berry Dictator. Then laughed as the girls did the same thing, smacking their lips and smiling seedy toothed smiles, and waving pink stained fingers at me.

As our baskets became full, the whole thing started to feel ideal, other than the whole back-breaking-labor-intensive factor...
and I started having these little flits of happy thoughts in my head, bits of songs like "Here Comes The Sun" and especially a piece from one of my favorite books...A Tree Grows In Brooklyn by Betty Smith... 

People always think that happiness is a faraway thing … something complicated and hard to get. Yet, what little things can make it up. 

Isn't that SO true? Even in a Berry Oligarchy?

State Parkin' it!

So, the kids are getting big. Like bigger than me big...but they still get excited about going with us...IF we're going somewhere they like to go.

Fortunately for us, we live in the Finger Lakes, we have no shortage of awesome places to take off to right at our finger tips!

If there is one benefit to having kids close in age (12, 14, 16) it's that they're pretty much interested in the same stuff.

Diving into the Olympic sized swimming pool...

The opportunity for new FaceBook Profile Pics...

Dad's grilled Steak & Mushrooms...







                     

Hiking the Glen

and a little freedom to wander while mom gads about taking pictures.            

In a few years, they'll probably have better things to do than hang out with mom and dad...swimming and grilling and chilling.   And wondering why their mom is video-taping the ground, from an inch & a half away...But for now they're all mine. And we have this beautiful place to live in.



Badly attempted video of a winged ant dragging off a spider.

Best wishes,

Rebecca Flys

Electrons, Frozen Bippies, and the Finger Lakes

Sometimes what you think you are seeing is so far from what you're actually seeing... Lesson learned world, thanks for the scar.  What a week or two.

MOVING ON TO THE GOOD STUFF

This week, as I tried to re-learn why so many, or so many electrons go in an outside shell, (TY psych degree which decrees it is imperative I understand how many protons are in your nucleus), our lake was frozen over completely, and I was driving home with these incredible kneel down and pray sunsets to my right. 

I feel like I live in my mother-ship (AKA my silver mini-van), this photo expresses my skewed view of the world from my most frequent vantage point, or from my most natural environment, whichever.

I used to own mittens, but I have kids, so all I have to keep my hands warm are dirty socks, or my own sleeves, otherwise I would have stopped to take pictures sooner. It ended up I made a stop and photographed bare handed. It was so cold out, I think I damaged the nerves in my picture-taking button-pressing finger. I may also have frozen my bippies off. My mom always warned me about that.

You gotta love the Finger Lakes. Even when your fingertips are frozen off, you're pretty sure there isn't enough salt in the free world to de-ice your driveway, and the dog keeps peeing by the door because it's just too cold out there for her...you find yourself nestled in your mini-van, in this pretty little corner of NY, feeling pretty lucky to have such a nice view.  

Oh, and the wine isn't so bad either. 

And it will be summer, eventually, for about five minutes.