It was a lovely day to pick strawberries. Kind of cloudy and overcast, but not cold. The strawberry plants stretched out in long rows ahead of us, ours for the choosing. Strawberries are usually “too sour” according to my daughter, but there is something irresistible about picking them off the plant and popping them into your mouth while they are still warm from the sun beginning to peek out from behind the clouds. Even she snuck a few instead of getting them into the box.
I love taking my kids to this farm. They get to walk in the mud, digging around, finding the most fresh and beautiful produce. They try things they wouldn’t dream of trying if they were served to them on a plate at home. This is my son after his first trip there about 7 years ago:
He looks like he had been beaten in the face, but actually, he was beet-en in the face. He loved the beets so much, he stained himself red. With BEETS. Normal kid behavior, right? And this is my daughter today, just walking around eating kale salad with her fingers:
This place has been the scene for melon picking, pumpkin choosing, produce grazing, strawberry devouring, birthday celebrating, Easter egg hunting, and even Christmas tree shopping.
You know those places that just remind you of being a kid? That take you right back to your childhood even when you’re old enough for wrinkles and gray hairs and back pain and a mortgage? The smells, the memories, the people come whooshing back as soon as you are back in that space.
I hope this is that place for them.