During strawberry seasons of long ago, when I was a kid, my dad would wake me up early on a Saturday morning (he not being a believer in sleeping in past dark-thirty, EVER) and we would go strawberry picking. Berry picking was serious business for him, and if I wanted to keep up I had to learn to pick fast and well, but the work was interrupted with an occasional taste (or maybe getting pelted with a squishy over-ripe berry), so it was still a lot of fun.
Now that Ian is old enough to not tromp on every berry in a row, I decided it was time to share the joy that is strawberry picking with him. I still pick at the same farm that my dad took me to, so there is a little bit of nostalgia in this first trip together.
First you ride the wagon out to the field.
Then you get assigned your row - I told him he had to pick ten berries before he tasted one. Busted!
After you finish picking, you wait for the tractor to come back, and as you wait you sample your produce.
I decided to go easy on the rookie this time and only pick one tray. During my teen years, my mom and sisters and I started going to the farm together, and we went for volume. We'd each pick a couple of trays and then take them home and process them. I have no idea how many pounds that was, but it was a lot. We had fun working together, although our fingers were stained red for several days afterwards.
This time I let Ian off the "Strawberry Cleaning" hook and he mixed us up a batch of muffins to snack on instead.
Happy strawberry picking everyone!